


Across The Universe

by EllieCarina



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi - Fandom
Genre: Angst for days, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Canon Continuation, F/M, Force Bond, I mean, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Reylo - Freeform, Save Ben Solo, Spoiler fic, TLJ Continuation, and force bond, but reylo, completely plotted, finnrose - Freeform, my attempt at an episode 9 speculative script-ish story, speculative episode 9 plot, switching POVs, to lead into a continuation fic of TLJ
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13031919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCarina/pseuds/EllieCarina
Summary: We fight for the people that we love.But what if the people we love are the people we fight?Unsettled by their persisting bond, Rey and Ben Solo brave the paths they have chosen. Meanwhile the Resistance builds itself back up from the ashes of the battle on Crait. Poe has to navigate conflicting interests and Finn sets out on a journey to save Rose. A new generation of Jedi is blossoming under the shadow of a new empire and at the heart of it all is the story of a love with nowhere to go.***canon-compliant||post-tlj||episode-9-plot-speculation-fic||reylo||finnrose||poedel***





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all...this is it. The start of a new WIP. I have been looking for the best start of this story to come to me in the last few days and today it came. 
> 
> I want you to know that you can take this as a stand-alone missing scene as well and move on, if you don't like WIPs. For this story, it serves as a prologue, so it's contained in itself and will not leave you hanging.
> 
> If you plan to stick around however, know that this will take time. I have a busy job set to turn even busier next year and I won't have time to update this on a regular schedule. Bare with me, I will do my very best.  
> This is however firmly plotted out and I plan on finishing this because I really love that story already and I can't wait to share it!
> 
> I know people hate WIPs but people are also what keep WIPs alive, so I ask you from the get go, if you want this story from me, support me, let me know you're on board. That would mean everything.
> 
> A note to my other two WIPs (Aquarium and Awakening), both will be continued with Awakening probably finished in December 2017 and Aquarium hopefully within Jan 2018.

PROLOGUE

 

Rey comes to with a start, scrambling to her feet in a panic. Like a base automaton, trained on survival, she tries to ignite a lightsaber that isn’t there anymore and almost tumbles back to the ground before she fully remembers where and who she is. She takes a quick scan of her surroundings and finds Ben, a mess of black on the floor, but her eyes are caught by the view out the thick glass panes, revealing a giant gash splitting Snoke’s ship apart. Something big has torn it into two pieces and now they're irrevocably drifting away from each other. Rey knows the feeling. She looks over at Ben, at _Kylo_ , again and her chest constricts; he's not moving at all.

Still, quick as it came about, her instinct to worry about his well-being dissipates. She can feel him in the Force now that she checks. He’s unconscious but he’s alive. And in any case, she should not worry about him the first place. He’s her enemy–he had clearly made the decision that’s what they were now even if, just minutes before, he had also decided to kill his master for her. To tear apart all the confines of his old life to grant her hers.

And how had she thanked him for it? Alas, she does not see a way to give him what he wants. She has no will to or lust for power. Neither does she believe in what he is trying to accomplish. She was tempted for a moment, yes, she is not going to humble herself by denying that, but she had been tempted not by the idea of ruling the galaxy but by that of belonging. With someone alike her, yes. With him. In every way that concept would apply, as well. She is also not denying that, not after what she had experienced when their hands touched in her hut on Ach-To. She wonders briefly if he saw something else or the same thing as her, only interpreted it differently. Rey is fairly certain that they _had_  shared the vision. The way he had looked at her in that elevator, the way he had held out his hand and said “Please” after he asked her to join him, his face an echo of what she had seen when their fingertips sparked a whirl of images to life in her mind's eye. She'd seen his future and it was by her side, united in every way love could unite two people. But maybe, like the sand storms on Jakku, this future had blown away, never to materialise in that form again. As she searched the Force, she saw endless possibilities unfold, en endless row of futures that might or might not come to fruition.

The ship around her rumbles and the red curtains keep disintegrating, blowing sparks across the wide space past her. It stinks of ashes and burning plastic. It’s time to go. She scans the room, feels in the Force for some way to flee and finds there’s an escape shuttle docked just a room over beckoning her. If she can get to that safely, she will signal Chewie to rendevouz with her on the planet the Resistance had been escaping to and do her part to help them. 

The dock is in an adjacent room behind her, the path to it clearly visible in her mind. Ben lies motionless ahead. She takes a step toward him, a sense of conflict tainting her senses that feels dangerously like his. Two steps, three steps further taken, she halts, trying to find the resolve to turn around and just go. Her foot kicks something solid and one half of Luke’s lightsaber skitters a few inches across the polished, reflective dark floor. The other half lies next to Ben’s feet.

Rey can’t bring herself to leave those pieces behind. Much like the Jedi texts collected by her temporary, reluctant master. Luke's broken lightsaber will join the books she took from his tree before leaving Ach-To and come to serve a purpose once more, she can feel it. She clips the bottom part to her belt and sets out to collect the piece Ben broke off for himself. 

He looks so big in his black robes. Even incapacitated like this, he is still frighteningly large, like a sleeping asharl panther and should invoke the same level of caution. Rey is not afraid though, he won’t wake up any time soon, that much she can catch. She wonders for a moment about a possible path, about ending him where he lies and contain the danger he will pose for her and her friends. But she doesn't follow that trail of thought to conclusion. She feels the Force whirr with unfulfilled paths for him. It's not her place to interfere. And she doesn't _want_ to, not if she is honest. He is a mystery, a dangerous mystery, but she can't pretend like she has any right to be his executioner. Not with the little she knows about him.

Without thinking or questioning the move, she holds out her hand the way she could see Luke do in his memory of Ben. His young student, his nephew, had slept soundly in his dwelling then, a lifetime ago, and Luke had rummaged through his mind only to find horror, fear and corruption. Now Rey finds turmoil and pain. Kylo, no– _Ben_ , is not coherent in his state of being, it’s just fragments of sense she can make out. He is furious with her but most of all with himself. He is in denial about the vacuum of control he just created in his own mind. Snoke had used to hold so much might over him for so long, that now there’s a great, terrifying void where that power used to be and it’s flooding with darkness every second he keeps stumbling through the mist of his paralysed mind. 

Then there is the matter of her rejection to his proposal and she can see now, with a twitch of her little finger unlocking his shame while he can’t keep her away from it, that it wasn’t just a proposal of a power-merger, to utilise their Force to rule together, but that it was a much simpler proposal as well, a much more human one. He wanted her camaraderie, her friendship. He wanted her passion and submission and to submit to her in turn. He had hoped for _love_ , even if she can feel that his concept of love is hazy at best. Now, there can be no more doubt about him seeing the same thing in her future that she had seen in his. For he had proposed for her love with some confidence that he would get it. Because he had _seen_  how she gave it to him, freely and with no restraint.

The fact that she had refused him in spite of that is a gnarly, seeping wound, much greater than any physical one she could have ever given him and, unlike the gash to his face and chest that had scared over, this one burns so hot and scorching, it might never heal. The humiliation is the worst thing, it almost brings her to to her knees. 

 _Pathetic child_ , are the words that float around in his mind, _pathetic_ , _ridiculous, you never learn_. How weak of him to hope for love when he has known so long he can’t be loved at all.

“Oh, Ben,” Rey says, although he can’t hear or feel her right now, and finally does sink to her knees beside him. It’s not ridiculous to wish to be loved, not at all. 

 _She could never love me_. It’s more of a feeling than a fully formulated thought she can see in his mind and heart but it makes her touch his face where he lies there immobile, and push his sweaty hair out of his forehead. He is quite beautiful like this. So beautiful it tugs at her body in multiple places, so beautiful, she does not want to let him go at all.

 _She could never love me_. His mind has caught itself on that. 

He’s so very wrong. And she won't leave him here to wake up believing that. 

Rey takes his half of the lightsaber for safe-keeping and gets up to her feet again to make a grab for his legs. He’s heavy but she reaches out for the Force to help with the weight and drag him forward toward the docking bay. Her plan isn’t solid yet and she has no idea what to do with him once she has him on board the shuttle, but surely there’s a way to contain him long enough to beat the First Order. Surely on that planet down there is some sort of way to hold him. Surely she can keep him away from her friends while they fight, because as soon as he comes to, they will. Surely she will pull this off somehow.

Rey drops his foot and just stands there, panting from the effort. There’s no way she can do any of that.

Her plan, or lack thereof, is ridiculous. She won’t be able to contain him at all. He’s too powerful. Even with their powers on par with each other, it would take her out of the Resistance's fight entirely. If she brings Ben down with her now, to her friends while they are occupied trying not to die, she will be of no help at all. Actually, she could be the opposite, taking Ben along. Who knows what collateral damage they’d cause fighting each other. This is no good. She could only take him somewhere else entirely but she has the sickening feeling that all her friends will perish if she doesn’t help them, so that isn’t an option either.

Rey curses under her breath and bites her lips. Her eyes are burning and sure enough, she soon is crying again. _Stupid girl_ , she thinks, _how silly of you to believe you could have saved him_. She has to leave Ben Solo behind. Perhaps forever. Just like that, the open wound in her soul matches his. She would linger on it, but something catches her attention away. Footsteps. Approaching quickly. She has to hurry. No more waiting around, no more stalling. 

She whips her head toward the sound and back. There’s not much time left but she can’t get her feet to move yet. Instead, she kneels back down beside him, touches his face again and tries to reach his mind, as if to leave him a message there. She bows down so close that she can smell him. Sweat and sandalwood, ashes and despair. She tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear and wishes she could break reality.

“Come back to us, Ben,” she says and thinks it at him with all her might, trying to push the thought through her fingers into his brain.

And then it’s too late for anything else. The elevator to her left rumbles downward. She jumps to her feet and runs. The stormtroopers that breech the throne room minutes later, only see the tail lights of Snoke’s shuttle as Rey escapes the wreckage of the _Supremacy_ to fight another day.

Hours later, when through Luke’s might and sacrifice, the remaining Resistance is almost off to safety for the time being, after Rey had long felt Ben struggle to consciousness and crawl right back into the persona of Kylo Ren like a wounded animal, she sees him again, kneeling on the dusty white ground in front of the Falcon’s door. In reality, he is a lot further away. She doesn’t know where exactly because she can’t see his suroundings, but she can feel the sensation of stale, cold air and taste salt on his lips. He must be in the mine somewhere. So he’s close enough to get to them still, to send his men after her but he makes no move to, just seeps back into their connection, embraces it in spite of himself because he vowed he wouldn’t. Rey sees that memory of his immediately–him opposite of Luke, promising him she would be destroyed, promising himself he would never succumb to their treacherous connection ever again, promising that her weakness would be her downfall. Both her and Ben know that promise is hollow. They’re still connected, despite it all, and Rey shoves all the consequences this will have to the side for the moment.

Ben in turn just stares at her and she can’t move for a second, her heart missing a beat or two and her breath stalling in her throat. His eyes flicker as he remembers more. She can see it in his mind, now that the feel of her fingers on his skin comes back to him, as well as her voice echoing in the trashed chamber of his dead Leader. _Come back to me, Ben_ , she had pleaded. His lips quiver slightly and for a moment there’s that old conflict between light and dark, between the desire to rule and order and the overwhelming need to love and be loved, roaring to life in his chest. But he beats it down with spiteful resolve, fuelled by his pain.

 _Join me_ , he thinks across the distance to her and leans forward. 

Stubborn idiot. 

Rey’s features harden. He must know that she won’t. Must know that she _can’t_. The disappointment stings enough to make her punch the button to close the Falcon’s door but not half as much as the sadness of seeing him vanish from her sight. _Where do we go from here_ , she asks herself and finds no answer. It's hard to feel compassion for him in that moment.

They’re stuck now, on opposite sides of a war they could’ve ended together, trapped in each others minds and hearts with no hope of dissolution. That is the worst of it all. That bond that persists next to all of it is the one thing that will make fighting him, beating him, near impossible. Maybe the only way it can be done is of the bond went away. But how? And further: _How_ , if she doesn’t really want it to? Because for the first time in her life, she had felt like she wasn't alone in the universe.

 

*** 

 

On the other side of the mountain that Han Solo's Millennium Falcon takes off from, taking Rey from Jakku and his mother with him, Ben Solo crouches on the floor of the Rebel base command room and watches a pair of dice disintegrate and disappear from his palm. Once it's gone, he makes a fist and tightens his grip around its echo, trying to forget he ever saw it.

Rey's voice echoes in his ear, speaking his true name, and it's the only clear thing above a storm of fury, pain and hatred. After so long, he is still Ben. Still weak, conflicted, unbalanced and pathetic. But that must end. He has a new purpose now, a new name. _Supreme Leader_. He holds all the power now and he _will_ wield it. And he _will_ find her and destroy her, like he vowed to. He can taste his own lie in the back of his mind and squares his jaw. He will find the resolve, he has to. There has to be a way that he can best her, get rid of her. If he could burn her away from under his skin, he could end it, finish her once and for all and fulfil his destiny. Whatever that may be. The concept is hazy. But she made no move to be apart of it. Yes, she had spared his life when she left him in the throne room, perhaps because she cared, but perhaps only because she thought she shouldn't for some old-fashioned morality. If anything, there had been no compassion in her heart for him when she severed their connection. But she is still there in the back of his mind, pushing him away, like she just wants to forget.

 _So there it is_ , he realises and his head snaps up with new resolve, his face hard and cold.

He has to break their bond. Once and for all.

Once he's free of her and has extinguished the flame of hope, of  _belonging_ , that she had so carelessly set alight in him and then denied, he will finally be free. And then he will kill her. That's the only way he'll survive in a galaxy where she exists but not by his side.


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's way too late around my neck of the woods but HERE IT IS! The first chapter. A lot happens, most of it sad, but you're all here for that aren't you?
> 
> A massive thank you to my wonderful Beta over at rose-dumas on tumblr for her great insights and amazing suggestions and for considerably improving my grammar and word choice! (Also considerably minimising the still ridiculous number of run on sentences. You'll see.)
> 
> I really hope you like this beginning!

ONE

 

“On this very day, a year ago,” Hux begins, his cutting, nasal voice booming across Coruscant’s gigantic Monument Plaza. The square is crawling with sentients of every species Ben Solo has ever seen or read about. The general pauses for effect and lets his eye wander over the crowd before he continues: “–our beloved Supreme Leader Snoke was savagely slaughtered by the rebel Rey of Jakku–a dirty desert rat, a treacherous nobody.”

 

Ben shifts where he sits on the protrusion of the big pyramid in the south of the square, uncomfortable and on display on a skies-awful iron throne which Hux had insisted on setting up for him. It’s ridiculous, this whole thing. The fact that he is sitting there like a decorative doll, unmoving and useless while thousands of eyes scrutinize him. That cursed, incessant wind which keeps blowing his hair in every possible direction. How he worries if anybody saw him flinch when Hux said Rey’s name and trying again, in vain, to discreetly get his damned unruly locks to stick to his head. His black velvet robes blow up like a balloon, making him look like he’s wearing a black sugar puff, and those Forse-forsaken holo-droids buzz around him to lifestream his stony expression to house-high screens scattered across the plaza. Every last little part about this whole celebration; _ridiculous_. And even if it wasn’t, Ben — _Kylo Ren_ — should be up there making that speech. Yet weeks ago, in a shameful hour, he had conceited that Hux was better at this than he was–that he froze up when he had to speak freely in front of huge crowds, started to sweat and stutter and make himself vulnerable to humiliation. That was no way an Emperor —a galaxy’s _Supreme Leader—_ should present himself. Ben hates it with a red hot fervor, all the more because Hux basks in the attention like the little self-aggrandizing cretin that he is.

 

“But from the ashes of the _Supremacy_ , his successor Supreme Leader Kylo Ren emerged, _somehow_ , unscathed,” Hux says and Ben squares his jaw. He is sure that in writing, that little word, that ‘somehow’, had been intended to sound awed and dazzled when spoken, but Hux gives it an ugly tint of scepticism and mockery, given it's likely only discernible as what it is to Ben's ear. It’s a task not to wipe the ginger of his darned pedestal for the insolence. But because making a scene now would be very unwise in a plethora of ways, Ben lets his general proceed.

“He who now has no equal in the galaxy, is determined to destroy all of those who would stand in the way of the First Order and has fulfilled the glorious vision of his fallen master,” Hux bellows to the cheering crowd. Their enthusiasm sounds rehearsed.

 

“Yes, he has!” Hux spurs on more exaltations and Ben leans slightly forward, if only to watch the tension in Hux’s face when he says it. The ginger bastard hates him and Hux isn’t half as good at hiding his feelings as he thinks he is. Ben finds it amusing for the most part because it’s laughable how someone like Armitage Hux thinks he can hide either his true self or his displeasure at having to praise Kylo Ren to the high heavens from him. So maybe this situation is not entirely without merit.

 

“Thanks to our Supreme Leader, our enemies have all but perished. The Galaxy is now firmly under the First Order’s wise leadership, and better for it!” Hux says, inspiring another round of applause. It sounds more sincere this time. Perhaps it is. “We have created order from chaos. The corrupt and ineffective New Republic, now gone forever, remains unmourned, for we have brought peace and prosperity to its once bereft citizens.”

 

 _At least he’s got something right_ , Ben thinks. The First Order has reinstated a steady rule, a firm structure to keep all the failings of sentient behaviour in line, their enduring, stubborn weaknesses and proneness to idiocy, and it’s not without spite that Ben straightens his spine to sit up taller. Because whatever anybody, any rebel or Resistance fighter, any _girl_ persistently rummaging around in his brain, expected, his rule has not been gruesome or irresponsible but smart, refined and justified.

 

“Across the galaxy, the flag of the First Order is flown today to celebrate this momentous occasion, this grand anniversary,” Hux lifts his head in expectancy of thundering applause and hollers across the square: “All creatures great and small bow to the First Order and rejoice in our victory.”

The crowd roars in response, right on cue. Ben can already see this moment being replayed over and over in the propaganda-holos. The spiteful, angry boy hidden away inside him envies Hux the praise he is sure to recieve for this speech.

 

***

 

Rey leans with her back against a thick oak tree, probably decades older than the nearby military base her family of outcasts and rebels have built their new home into a year ago. It’s a gorgeous day on Kowak in the Outer Rim. Spring had turned into summer in the past few weeks of the planet’s seasonal cycle and the increase of sunshine and fresh produce from the fields surrounding the base seem to have lifted the spirits of her little band of Resistance fighters considerably. She takes a deep breath, smelling the air’s sweetness, shoos a small dragonfly away from her arm and then turns her head to shush Temiri and Dell as they whisper to each other behind her back. Poe is just taking the impromptu stage in front of them, so the boys better be quiet down and listen.

 

“It’s been a year now since we’ve made our escape from Crait, a year of hardship and struggle far greater than any of us could have imagined,” Poe begins, his voice solemn and Rey can’t help but recall the past year with a heavy heart. “We were less than forty when we came. But look around you now. Look at how we’ve grown. There are over five-hundred souls on this base today!”

Rey follows his suggestion and does look around as everyone erupts into a brief but heartfelt cheer. It hadn’t been an easy road to get to this place. Finding Kowak alone had been a task. Stocking and maintaining the crumbling base had been another. With many of their own in bad health and worse spirits, it hadn’t been easy to keep the spark of hope alive. And some are still struggling to. Rey is always reminded of this when she catches Finn’s eye like she does now. How he still spends hours upon hours sitting next to Rose Tico’s bed, hoping that maybe that day, she’ll finally wake up. Her heart breaks for him, all the more because she can’t think of a way to help him.

 

“We put out the call and you came from all over the galaxy, brave heroes and heroines who will not stand for the oppression of the First Order, who will not bow, who will not quietly fade into the night, no!” Poe enthuses, his voice rising to a crescendo that is both pleasant and rejuvenating and Rey straightens her spine, feeling a tug somewhere at her back that makes her see a flash of pale skin between black velvet sleeves and black satin gloves. She brushes Ben Solo from her mind with some effort. But it’s not like he’d acknowledge her anyway.

“We were the spark that kept the darkness at bay, but we have grown into a flame, and we _will_ burn the First Order down!” Poe goes on and people begin clapping. “We are here to fight and we are here to win! I am honored to stand before you as your elected Commander in Chief, your General!”

 

Rey smiles because she is proud of Poe and because when she does, her brain is way more likely to push the daunting image of Ben Solo to the side. Ben in the skin of Kylo Ren, as he is being celebrated for casting the galaxy into darkness on its newly revived capitol planet, in front of a crowd of thousands upon thousands, cheering the death of liberty once more.

 

***

 

“Those few terrorists that remain who call themselves the Resistance —those scattered, filthy animals who wish to destroy our hard-earned peace and prosperity— are being hunted down this very minute, and we will not stop until they are completely eradicated,” Hux says, and out of the corner of his eye, Ben sees Rey appear next to him, leaning against the pyramid wall leisurely, shrewdly ignoring him. Two can play _that_ game.

A full year after Crait and he still hasn’t been able to break that bond. It eats away at him—the same as it does her, he’s sure, though for different reasons. Rey keeps pulling at him, even when she ignores him like she does now, even when she tries not to, she is still there, tugging at the edges of his mind. Tempting him to open himself back up to her suggestions and her sweetly, softly whispered lies.

What already feels like a lifetime ago, she had told him that he wasn’t alone in a quiet intimacy that had felt almost scandalous. He had been so desperate to believe in this promise that he had went and broken his whole life apart to have her.

 

And then Rey had turned around and betrayed him, like it was the simplest, easiest thing. Just like everyone else he had ever cared about before her—his parents, his pathetic failure of an uncle. To say that he is still bitter would be an understatement. Still, his efforts of casting her out of his thoughts had been as fruitless as those of severing the mysterious connection that bound them together. But this is not a battle he is prepared to give lost. One of these days, he will tear her out of him. If it’s the last thing he does.

 

“These destroyers of the peace will not live to see the dawn of another standard year,” Hux practically screams and Ben allows himself to echo the sentiment. “That is a promise. The First Order will not rest until every last one of these murderers and thieves have been put down like the rabid creatures they are. I can promise you that neither I, nor the Supreme Leader,” Hux inclines his head to Ben who withstands the awkward temptation to _wave_ by an inch. “-will rest until every single being looking to the First Order for guidance and security can sleep easy at night, knowing that their children will grow up in a galaxy defined by concort and prosperity. So now, a toast!”

 

On cue, there is commotion in the first couple rows of stands at the bottom of the pyramid, where the influential and well-to-do have been seated to stroke their egos and reassure them of their status. They rise from their seats with great bustle, flutes of sparkling wine high as their noses, a universal look finally appropriate for the stink of the city. Ben reaches for his own glass and wonders why it feels so unsettling to be associated with these people.

“To our wise Supreme Leader,” Hux declares and Ben stands up, not without turning his head slightly to catch just a glimpse at Rey, just to see if she’s still looking. “To the brave and vigilant troops who fight under his command, to the First Order! Hurrah!”

Ben doesn’t join in as the crowds parrot the cheer. He’s too busy quickly breaking away from Rey’s stare, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He notices she has changed her hair, and despises himself for it.

 

***

 

The old, familiar sound of the Force rumbling and roaring as it presents Rey with Ben, sitting there on a tree stump facing Poe, is at times a requiem and at others a gentle whisper. In the moments of weakness when she misses this connection to Ben so much she could scream, it’s a dangerous gift when he does appear. But at times like this, when her resolve to destroy everything Kylo Ren is and stands for is strong, actually seeing him is weakening in the worst sense. He has cut his hair since the last time she saw him, probably specially for this very night on Coruscant. Where it reached down to his shoulders before, now it is cut in the nape of his neck, the fullness of it still hiding the size of his ears but not as effectively as his curls had before.

The fact that the great Kylo Ren has never been able to shake his insecurity about his large ears is perhaps the most peculiar thing Rey has learned of him through their wretched bond. She doesn’t understand it. He looks painfully handsome like this, a soft breeze blowing his locks into his forehead, crazing the scar she had given him so long ago now and it’s a task, a physical effort, to try and look away. She knows that he can feel her, knows that when she can see him, he can see her, though he ignores her presence with a stubbornness that almost inspires ovation. Like he has done for the better part of the past year.

 

Save for those unacknowledged exceptions of late nights in deep shadows, every interaction they have had since leaving him on Crait had been painful, hostile or both. If he says anything at all, it’s always either taunting or devastatingly sad, and she has long lost her patience for it. He treats her like a cancer he wants nothing more than to get rid of, and it’s beyond infuriating considering that she spends half her nights trapped in his dreams where he does shameful things to her that are both terrifyingly enticing and the striking, total opposite of the repulsion he likes to greet her with when awake. She pries her eyes off of him at last and trains her focus adamantly on Poe.

 

“I am in awe of each and every one of you,” he says with a kind, generous smile. “Old friends and new. In awe of your persistence, your bravery, your dedication to our cause. Every day I see new faces and I am filled with hope, faces of new pilots or technicians or the next generation of Jedi under the tutelage of Mistress Rey, training to one day fight with us and turn the tide of this war!”

 

Rey grins when she hears her students rustle behind her and glances over her shoulder to see puffed up chests and wide, proud grins. Her eyes wander from Dell in the middle to Temiri and Jennica seated left and right of him and then to Hunter and Corra, sitting a row behind.

 

They are a peculiar bunch: of the girls, Jennica is a Cathar and Corra a Totruga, while the three boys are all human. Save for Temiri, who has turned ten just a couple of days ago, they are all firmly in their teens. Rey had found them one by one and taken them in this past year. Collecting them had felt a lot like her scavenging trips on Jakku, just a lot more rewarding. Dell had been first, then Hunter, then Temiri and Jennica. Corra came last, two months ago, but has maybe picked up her lessons the fastest of them all. For their sake, she is glad that Ben likes to pretend she doesn’t exist because it keeps his attention away from her students, her new padawans.

 

Then again, if Ben would actually care to spy on her long enough to have her memory reveal her training the kids, he would probably have nothing but sneers left for her. Sometimes, when she helps patch together a lightsaber or blatantly improvises moves and sells them as lesser known variations on the traditional forms, she feels like a fraud, the blind leading the blind. But what is she supposed to do? All she has are Luke’s old Jedi texts, which are hardly manuals, and a day and a half of experience training under the late legend. The rest is just improvisation.

 

Still, as she is faced with the five bright, wide grins behind her, she thinks she must be doing something right with them. Even if it’s all wrong, and all for nothing in the end, at least she has given them a home when before they had none. Which is more than anybody ever did for her growing up, so that alone made it all worth it.

 

“We have all sacrificed so much, suffered so many losses–” Poe continues in front of her, “but we are still here, we are persisting, we will not perish. And one day, our efforts will be rewarded with a free and just galaxy, a safe place for our children.”

Rey nods. It’s good to be reminded every now and then what all the struggle and heartbreak is for.

“There will be many battles before we get there,” Poe closes, reaching for a bottle at his feets and snaps back up to raise it high above his head. “But for tonight, let us celebrate how far we’ve come. To the Resistance!”

 

Over the noise of clinking bottles, Rey hears the ruffle of heavy fabric and turns. Ben’s rising to his feet as well, a thin crystal champagne flute swaying in in his grip as he turns his face to her ever so slightly, trying to be discreet. But she’s felt the movement in his bones long before he made it.

Their eyes meet and for a moment the rest of the galaxy falls away. Still, just as quick as it happens, the sensation fades when Ben breaks the contact and disappears from the peaceful gathering of her Resistance to return to the glamourous festivities in his honour. Rey tuggs at her hair absent-mindedly, wondering for a shameful second if the braid winding around her head like a crown had looked okay just now. Really, it makes no matter, she must still seem like dirt to him, the same poor and neglected scavenger she has always been. At the least, she won't be able hold a candle to all those rich and pristine women gathered around the Supreme Leader today, probably tripping over themselves to entice his favour. 

 _I’ll see just how sincerely they all defer to you, how real this celebration is_ , she thinks. _I bet you’ve already hidden yourself away from the crowds when I come._

 

***

 

“Good speech,” Finn says and lightly punches Poe Dameron’s arm. The pilot laughs and nods, passing him a bottle of moonshine to drink to one year of managing by their teeth not to die.

“Thanks,” Poe replies. “Connix wrote most of it.”

Kaydel Ko Connix’s hair is plaited into intricate braids for the occasion. She is done up nicely, much like all the women at base for the party, and grins like a thousand credits, practically beaming at Poe.

“You delivered it masterfully, General,” she says. “Better than I ever could.”

 

Poe basks in the compliment for a second and then waves it off like a sweet but annoying fly. It’s a typical response for him since becoming General. He is still trying to emulate Leia’s easy grace and effortless authority. And getting better at it by the day.

After Crait, Leia herself had decided to finally step down from her leadership position in the Resistance, shifting her focus to helping Rey with her endeavour of re-starting the Jedi order, help her set up a curriculum and gather up the prospective students in the first place. And so far, they had done well, Finn muses. Looking at the gaggle of children running around the gathering, Finn can’t help a pang of jealousy cursing through his chest at how the adults smile at them when they pass. It’s a look of well-meaning, affectionate annoyance, that says ‘Oh, let the kids play’ and it’s the carnal opposite of every glare ever cast at him when he was growing up, subject to military personnel drilling obedience and conformity into him with iron grips and unforgiving relentlessness.

 

Rey is doing her best to reign them in, half-chasing them across the field and grabbing Dell and Hunter by their collars as they pick up sticks to mock-fight with. Hunter looks a lot like Rose as he wiggles out of her hold, charging at Dell while still holding back enough to have the smaller boy hold a candle against him. It’s in the eyes, all hopeful resilience. And somehow Finn is reminded of himself and Rose even more then, the way they had made their way through Canto Bight like kids on a play-pretend-mission. He sees himself in Dell, not just because they have the same dark skin and bright smile, but because they share the same determination to do what is right. And in Hunter he sees Rose, her patience and unwavering enthusiasm. Finn thinks she would like him, perhaps eventually come to see him as a little brother of sorts. Not as a replacement for Paige, but nonetheless maybe someone to help ease the hurt. But Finn knows he’s getting ahead of himself. There’s no guarantee Rose will ever even wake again to meet the boy.

 

It has been a year now of her plucked into machines, lying in a bacta-suit for weeks on end. Some days she seems to be getting better, other days worse, but somehow never waking up. On bad days, this is the only thing he can think about–no matter if he’s making a supply run or helping Rey collect younglings or extracting Resistance hopefuls from backwater hideouts. At the end, he always comes back hoping that maybe when he arrives at the med-wing, she’ll be there, waiting for him and grinning, as if nothing ever happened. But she never does. Still, hope isn’t lost.

“Any day now, I think,” the doctor had said two weeks ago. But any day now could still be today, so Finn refuses to lose faith. If he lost that, he doesn’t want to know what he would do.

 

Out on the green, Rey has given up on trying to get the kids to stop getting nasty stains on their sand-coloured training tunics and shrugs with all the fatalism of a tired parent. As she makes her way over to them, Finn can’t help but think it’s funny how much she has changed, how much she has grown in this year. She’s only pushing twenty but there is a wisdom about her that wasn’t there before–still, at the same time, also a sense of dejection which no one seems to be able to cure. Sometimes he can hear her talk to herself in hushed tones when he walks by her room, her door always ajar in case one of the children needs something, and he’s pretty sure she is never aware of him hearing. He has tried to talk to her about it, about that sadness, but then again, they all share a universal grief and when possible, everyone tends to focus on lighter things. Rey is no different. So she smiles that old smile, bright and infectious and if one didn’t know her as well as Finn does, the shadow lurking over her as she joins them, would be unnoticeable.

 

A look passes between her and Connix and the blonde perks up from her conversation with Poe.

“Is it time?” Connix asks Rey to a nod in reply.

“Come on, you can’t be leaving already,” Finn protests, because the party hasn’t even gone on for more than ten minutes.

“If we don’t leave now we won’t make it in time,” Rey says.

“We’ll lose our advantage if we don’t get there before the crowds dissipates,” Connix agrees. Finn recalls the details of Rey’s plan to collect yet another force sensitive, arguing that if you had to smuggle someone out of Coruscant of all places, unseen, it should happen when the entire planet is hosting a week-long First Order worship-festival the whole galaxy and their mothers are invited to. True, it makes sense but he can’t find it in himself to agree to the risk.

Connix meanwhile, is all on board. “We must do it while they’re still celebrating one _magnificent_ year under totalitarian rule,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm but it’s obvious she is excited for the action.

Usually she doesn’t get out in the field much but Coruscant’s labyrinth of street canyons requires a bird’s eye-navigator and no one messes with Connix when it comes to maps.

 

“Could you try and get Leia to sit this one out?” Poe asks Rey, low so no bystanders can hear and Finn catches Connix's knowing look. “You’re the only one she listens to, and I need her here. There’s too much unrest in the Council.”

Rey sighs and her face twists into a ‘No can do’. “She’s already strapped into the co-pilot seat, Poe,” she says apologetically. “You know as well as I do that Leia will always do what Leia wants to do, no matter what I say.”

“Well then I’m going with you,” Finn decides. “I have a bad feeling about this. There’s too many bounty hunters out there and the city is crawling with storm troopers. The whole galaxy is plastered with your face. Plus _Kylo Ren_ is on the planet himself!”

“Don’t be silly. Kylo Ren will be long gone when we get there,” Rey says with a certainty that is irksome and not for the first time. Finn still hasn’t figured out what exactly had happened before Rey returned from the _Supremacy_ a year ago, but since then, whenever Rey speaks of Kylo Ren, there is something in her voice that puts him off. He’s not going to figure it out today though either, because Rey is not budging and already on her way out. There's a sense of distance between them that he can't explain and what's worse, he has no idea how to get rid of.

 

“You should stay here with Rose,” she says. “The doctors said she could wake up every day now, right? You should be here when she does. It’ll be fine. We’ll be back before you know it.”

With that, she nods a brief goodbye and turns toward the hangar. Connix hugs everyone like people do who don’t go on missions often, then grins in eager anticipation and heads on after Rey, ready for an adventure. Finn wishes he could shake that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach which tells him she won’t return as cheerful as she is leaving.

 

***

 

Days in hyperspace always pass easily with Leia for company. Chewbacca, Connix, and Mela and Rusphil, two of Maz’ new recruits, are fun too, but Rey is happiest during her shared copiloting shifts with Leia. She enjoys the long talks about everything and nothing and loves Leia’s stories, even the ‘boring’ ones, as per Leia’s own words. The ones about politics and endless senatorial debates. To Rey, learning about that side of history is as exciting as watching a holo-show. Although, to be fair, _watching a holo-show_ is also as exciting as watching a holo-show, because Rey had known neither growing up on Jakku.

The notion of a free and independent government however, made up of representatives from each world who are given the power to decide their own fates, is an ideal Rey has come to believe in over the course of the last year and it’s a more exhilarating concept than any fiction could ever be.

Even if Leia says the actual politics had been tedious and frustrating on the best and shamefully inadequate and ultimately useless on the worst days, it still must’ve been light years better than what reality they are living in now. Where the well-to-do stuff their pockets from the war machinery while the First Order’s higher-ups live a life of luxury built on the backs of countless systems bled dry for their greed and lust for power. It’s reprehensible and wrong and Rey will do everything in her power to end it.

 

When Chewie and Connix relieve Leia and her from their shift in the cockpit on the third night, Rey goes to sleep in her cod and imagines a better future and how it would be nice to live long enough to see it. Given there is any way to get to that point at all. Staring at the low ceiling, she thinks of her friends at home and all the horrible things they had to endure and still face everyday. Bitterly, she curses the war once again for taking and taking from them with no end in sight.

 

 _You could have ended this_ , a small, vicious voice says in the back of her head and it sounds like Ben. She tries not to heed it but it gnaws at her.

Maybe she _could_ have changed the way of things from inside had she joined him like he asked. But she made her choice, and there’s no use lingering over what could have been. Or ask herself if she had made the right decision. She turns around to face the dingy walls of their ship and feels a wave of sadness wash over her. Even now, with all the horrible things he’s done, Rey still thinks of him and it’s enough to drown her in sorrow.

Sometimes, when it gets bad like this, she knows Ben is somewhere with a minute to himself and feels the same horrible blend of loneliness and regret she does and plays it back into an endless feedback loop of misery into their connection. It’s these moments they appear to each other most frequently, the ones where Ben refuses to speak to her because he doesn’t trust himself with words. If she were on the Falcon right now, she would do him the courtesy of not tugging at their bond, but since Han Solo’s old ship has become too noticeable and they have switched vessels, she does. Just to check if he’s still there on the other side. And sure enough, a low thunder in her head later, Ben lies in the space between her and the wall, clad in black training pants and nothing else. She will never get used to that sight. His muscles roll under his skin as he adjusts his position and Rey can’t help how her eyes trail down his chest, following the ripples and shapes of his body until they disappear under his waistband. When she finds his eyes again they are dark, the way she recognizes from the dreams they share, those that neither of them ever acknowledges.

 

 _Maybe_ , she wonders, _this is the greatest complication of all_. This deeply human attraction, that carnal, sensual chemistry between them. There is no denying it. Neither one of them has even bothered to try. They would only make bigger fools of themselves by keeping up _that_ charade. Still, no matter how little they hide it, the end result is the same. They can’t act on it. Rey won’t, out of principle and Ben won’t, out of fear that it will be the last string pulled to completely undo him. So they lie there, close but never touching. With enough words unsaid to fill books and enough inches of skin ached for but never touched to cover the Jakku desert. She falls asleep like that and once Connix stirs her awake hours later to tell her they have landed in Coruscant's southern quadrant's twilight, Ben is gone and Rey could swear her and Leia, already back in the cockpit to act as look-out, share the same ache missing him.

 

Prepping for the mission is vital, since they’re dealing with many unpredictable variables, namely all of those bystanders of any conceivable species and especially those among them who might recognize them or worse, are on the hunt for them. BB8 throws a map of the quarter just some ten minutes on foot from the docks into the space before them, while R2D2 supplies a helpful running commentary of all the possible ways they could die there.

“Wow, Artoo,” Rey scoffs, “been spending more time with Threepio again lately, have we?”

The astromech beeps affirmatively and Chewie roars, pointing to the map.

“I know it’s a tight spot,” Rey agrees. “but it’s the best cover. We’ll be quick, in and out. Rusphil,” the Er’Kit looks up from polishing his blaster, “you take the flank, Mela the rear.” Mela nods, her greying red hair peeking through from under her headscarf. They all look like junk traders, their faces concealed by filthy make-shift garb but it’s the best way to blend in in these parts of the planet.

 

“Connix you and BeeBee-Eight need to get to higher ground right here,” Rey continues, pointing to an abandoned building near the small market square where she has arranged the pick-up of the girl. “I need you to watch _everything_. Artoo?”

The droid turns his head and beeps his readiness to receive his commands. Rey smiles at him, knowing that he’ll be happy staying back. His fighting days are long behind him and she can hardly blame him. Sometimes she feels a thousand years old herself, even if she has just been a part of this fight for a year.

“Go keep Leia company,” she tells R2. “Check the comms. And make sure she doesn’t fall asleep.”

 

R2 beeps his consent and rolls away, Rey only hears a muffled rumble from the cockpit which tells her rather than keep her from falling asleep, R2 had instead just woken her up from a nap. The others chuckle, coming to the same conclusion, and Rey is glad for the brief moment of levity before they step outside into an uncertain outcome.

“Let’s go,” Rey says and punches in a short communique into the device on her wrist. It’s for Garric, a Resistance spy tasked with getting the girl Deslin safe from the red light district, where she’s been thus far cleaning latrines, to the meeting point on the square. Rey secures her lightsaber staff at her back and throws a big brown, ghastly looking and even worse smelling linen cloak on and signals for her team to get going.

“We’re here,” Rey thinks, closing her eyes to find the young girl through the Force and goes on when she feels her listening. “Almost at the rendezvous point. Look out for the wookie.”

 

***

 

Ben wakes up from a haunting nightmare, alone in his bed. Like a fool, his hand searches for Rey beside him and of course she isn’t there. He's in pain, not a physical kind but it's more excruciating for it. Whenever he gives into his weakness and lets himself be with her, it cripples him like nothing has before. It feels like dying, every time he has to admit to himself anew that he can't keep her, that she will never stay. That he is alone and that she won't free him of this agony. She won't...she just won't let go of the past and she doesn't care enough about him to even try. She _wants_ him, yes, like a hungry animal, looking to tear into his flesh until there is nothing left of him, but she doesn't love him. No one ever did. He can't move for a second, doesn't know where to turn and what else to wish for but an end. For this to all to just _stop_.

 _This_  is exactly the reason why he needs to finally be rid of her. He forces himself upright and doesn’t bother getting dressed beyond a simple black training shirt before going back to the books and scrolls spread across his writing desk. There are pieces of paper lying scattered between the mess, evidence of his obsession.

His usually neat and decorative hand has sprawled out into madness on the pages, clear and humiliating proof of his growing despondence, the utter decay of his wits. He has read and poured over every text ever collected in the archives of the Empire and had lately switched from digital copies to ancient hard texts, not trusting the translations anymore and instead trying to make sense of the source material himself but it’s useless. All these mumbling buffoons who vomited their pseudo-religious mumbo-jumbo onto these laughable secondary texts of the Force, mostly had no idea what a Force-bond even was and even if they did, they hardly had anything to say about breaking one. Those that did, told merely of how the only way to break a Force bond was by _deciding_ to break it and by coming to hate the person you have it with. And Ben does. He does, he does! He _hates_ her. So why isn’t this working?

He tries meditating again and only sees her face, her hair sprawled out on his mattress, undone and wild, beckoning him so to drag his fingers through it. What a pathetic liar he is.

_No! No, no, no, NO!_

 

He practically lunges out of his meditating pose and first clears the desk off the books with one fell and violent swoop and then pushes over the entire table, screaming in frustration. He is on his way to punch a wall when the air around him changes, whirrs and then stills eerily, and he stops dead in his track. Someone’s here. He snaps around and what little composure he had left, goes out the viewpoint.

 

“You!” He seethes at the Force ghost of his old master, his uncle, his betrayer.

“Told you I’ll see you around,” Luke Skywalker says, all arrogance and self-satisfaction.

It’s enough to propel Ben forward in a blind rage, thrashing at Luke’s form that he can not grasp but not for a lack of trying. He spends himself, going in circles and striking at the air, throwing punches until he is worn out and stops, panting and embarrassed.

“Tell me how to break this bond,” he says finally, or _begs_ , if one values honesty.

“You already know the truth, Ben,” Luke says evenly.

“No,” he shakes his head. His uncle is right, but he can’t be.

“It can’t be broken,” Luke says. “Only death can do that. And even then, the bond won't go away, it would simply be empty, like a wound.”

“It can’t be worse than this,” Ben says, his voice tumbling over itself as he glances across the mess in his quarters. “So, I’ll kill her, I swear I will! Tell me where she is!”

He charges at Luke again but he only looks up at him with pity. “TELL ME!” Ben howls and stupidly reaches out for Luke again, to grab him by the shoulders and shake an answer out of him, but his fists close around only air and Luke is gone, leaving Ben to fall to his knees and whimper.

“Tell me where she is,” he pleads one last time, but no one is there to hear him.

 

***

 

“I’m here, it’s Rey.” It’s a narrow pass between being audible to the girl waiting at the other side of the columns edge and being quiet enough to have it be lost in the bustle on the square, filled with countless booths and tents, trade and business booming despite the late hour, but Rey manages. A moment later, her new student has taken the step to appear before her.

 

Deslin Nok Gerso is a sliver of a girl, black-tea-and-milk coloured skin with dark, almond eyes and long black hair down to her waist dyed a muted purple in the lengths. She looks no older than fourteen, although Rey knows she counts two more standard years. In the middle of her forehead sits a little glistening gemstone, golden to match the mustard-yellow, sheer fabric draped across her shoulders and chest and Rey wonders for a second if Deslin has dressed up for this.

“I thought you’d be older,” the girl says with a tilted head after a thorough once-over and sounds almost a little offended.

“I get that a lot,” Rey tells her unperturbed and then offers her hand. “Are you ready to come with us?”

Deslin nods and takes it.

 

They have barely pushed past three people on the square to get to a tiny pathway between two skyscrapers, when Connix’ voice scratches through the comm on Rey’s wrist.

“Rey, you’ve been made!” She warns. “Hurry up, they’re coming in through the alley behind you. I just sent you the best route out of there!”

“Understood, we’ll meet you back at the ship,” Rey says, punching the navigator button on her device and then turns to Chewbacca and Deslin, who stares at her with panic in her eyes. “It’s alright, just stay between us. Chewie, you better have that bowcaster ready! Mela, check ahead, Rusphil, cover Chewbacca!”

 

They all spring into action and run. The alley’s walls seem to close in on them, narrowing into a slit at the end Chewbacca will only just fit through and the first blaster bolts hit the buildings behind them. Rey pushes on, ushering Deslin in front her body and wedges out of the alley, breaking free into a busy street. It takes a moment before they’ve shoved through a group of Gungans in ridiculous rainbow outfits, squabbling over some underhand purchase but soon enough, the first creatures realize that the zipping sounds behind them are ricocheting shots and all hell breaks loose.

 

Rey seizes the ensuing commotion and drags Deslin further along. The first panicked screams split both air and crowd as the stink of sulphur mingles with the wafting smells of street food. The twinkling lights up ahead sputter out as several bolts hit the strings and a few descend onto the pavement, sparks flying and setting a fat Hutt’s scarlet robe on fire.

 

Rey rips off her cloak and ignites both ends of her lightsaber staff, the blue light reflecting from the pavement and drawing way more attention than she needs. But it can't be helped. She whips  the staff around just at the right time to deflect a blaster bolt that would’ve hit her square in the back, running backwards with her palm pressed to the small of Deslin’s back, shoving her forward.

Chewie yells and then Mela screams when Rusphil topples over, his long grey legs giving way as he falls to the ground, revealing the fastest of the storm troopers in strong pursuit behind him. His blaster is just recharging to take out the next of them.

 

“Mela, we have to go,” Rey urges the woman who has stopped moving ahead of her. There is no time to mourn, not a second to waste. Mela squares her jaw, fires behind her and hits the trooper right between the eyes. Rey stumbles and nearly trips over someone cowered before her and she would’ve fallen, were it not for Deslin grabbing ahold of her arm and now her leg hurts as she puts weight on it again.

 _Kriff_ , she thinks, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Rey bites through the pain and runs. Overhead, there’s a whiz of electronics and, of course, three armed speeders descend onto the street, firing their ammo on them in such relentless succession, Rey has to tap into the Force to command her saber staff and deflect them overhead on instinct, so they can keep getting away from there. Finally, the road ends and makes a curve, opening into the dock square. Just up ahead, their ship is waiting.

“Leia, fire her up, we gotta get out of here,” Rey yells into her comm and doesn’t wait for confirmation.

 

From the left, BB8 comes swishing through a band of scruffy looking traders and Connix darts after him, acknowledging Rey by firing her blaster into another storm trooper taking aim at them.

 

“Incoming!” Connix warns as the speeders catch up and the one at the head fires two rounds at Mela, who stumbles before Rey and is dead before he reaches the greasy ground. Deslin screams in horror but Rey tugs her against his side and presses on. Rey is numb to anything but survival. They just have to get on that ship. Then Leia opens fire from the cockpit.

Rey can’t make out her face from how far she still is away but only Leia can take out two speeders with two consecutive shots. Thank the stars!

 

They are almost there, just a few hundred meters. And then it happens, too fast for Rey to see coming: Like a flash, a TIE fighter emerges from beyond the trade hall on her right and swooshes over their heads. The dark port is lit up in bright red by the artillery fire from the tie, hitting their ship ahead. The side of it bursts open and Rey knows instantly that it won’t fly anymore. And then the next round of laser shots hit the back of the ship housing the fuel tank and as it explodes into yellow flames, it computes that Leia and R2-D2 are still in there.

“No!” Rey hollers and runs faster, the pain in her leg drowned out by the bile rising up in her throat and flaring terror threatening to take over her senses. The fire spreads on the ship, the rear blown off and the middle quickly catching the flames until thick black smoke engulfs it. _Get out of there, Leia, please._

 

Just a few more steps, just a little more time!

Chewie roars behind her to cover him and she obliges, keeping Deslin shielded by her body while Connix steps up to her side to fire all she has at the remaining speeder.

“Chewbacca, get them out of there!” Rey yells but it barely carries over the sound of the next explosion and Rey turns around just in time to see how their ship, the front of it, the _cockpit_ , is burst apart by a blast that sends Chewie flying and a wave of scorching heat burns across Rey’s face. The blast is so loud, it drowns out all of her senses for a moment until one thought comes back to her, booming above everything else.

 

_It can’t be._

 

“Rey, careful!” Connix yanks at her arm and pulls her out of the way, the two of them missing the last speeder by an inch as it shoots into the wreckage of the ship, causing another fireball to spew from the wreckage and Rey scarcely hears the speeder’s rider hit the ground with a thud. Connix helps her to regain her balance when Chewie nearly crashes into them, a wild fury in his eyes that Rey can feel in her bones. He runs back toward the ship, Connix, BB8 and Deslin following suit but Rey knows in her heart that it is too late. And then she is sure, because in the very next moment, Ben stands in front of her, staring with eyes wide as saucers. So he’s felt it too.

Leia Organa is gone.

He looks mortified, like he doesn’t understand, but she will be damned if she helps him in any way. She hates him now, hates him with a fury she usually keeps buried deep inside but skies, if he isn’t the one to unleash it every time.

“NOT A WORD FROM YOU!” She screeches and takes an angry step toward him. “That was your bounty on our heads, _your_ lie, Ben! This is on you!”

With a strength she doesn’t want to know the origin of, she shoves him, his chest firm and solid but the Force booms in her so loud and strong, it blasts him away from her. Good, she never wants to see him again!

 

“Rey? Rey!” Connix voice catches across the guzzling flames. “We have to go! _Now!_ ”

“I know where we can get a ship!” Deslin yells and Rey follows, on autopilot.

If she ever makes it off Coruscant alive, she is going to kill Kylo Ren.

 

***

 

“Supreme Leader,” an officer yells, barging in to Ben’s quarters on the _Ascendance_ unannounced, “the girl has been spo–”

“GET OUT!” Ben screams at the top of his lungs and Force shoves him against the corridor wall and the door shut behind him.

 

Ben barely caught himself from Rey’s push, has never felt so much hate radiating off of her, even in the forest on Starkiller base. There are two hand-shaped ash-prints on his chest that feel like they singe through the flimsy fabric of his shirt, all the way down to his soul. He can’t breathe. He gulps, fighting for air but it feels like tar, closing off his throat and filling his lungs. He can’t see. He. Can’t. _Breathe_.

His mother is dead.

So many nights he had wished for his family to disappear, for his wretched past to finally die and free him. Now it’s done. His uncle, his father, his mother. They are all gone. Rey’s face, twisted in disgust and hatred is etched into every fiber of his mind. Now he really is all alone in the universe. Just like he always wanted.  

 

And _Supreme Leader_ Kylo Ren lies curled up on the floor of his room and weeps like a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always...comments are life! I will cry happy tears if I wake up to some of your thoughts in the morning.  
> Thank you, my lovelies! <3


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before life will get crazy again for me from tomorrow on, I wanted to get this chapter out. It's very long to help tide you over, I hope that's cool with you guys :) There is a little nod to "Bloodline" by Claudia Grey in here and if you haven't read that book..you really should!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who already commented, gave kudos or subscribed, you guys are literally what keeps me writing and I appreciate all the support so much!!
> 
> A massive thanks to the wonderful tumblr-users @irridallium and @below5 for being my wonderful, impromptu betas on this chapter (I owe you my life).
> 
> So without further ado...here it is: Chapter Two.  
> (I'm very proud of it and if you have any thoughts - any at all - to share, I would so appreciate every last one :)

TWO

 

It’s the dead of night when suddenly Poe Dameron stands in Finn’s room, sleep clothes in disarray and hair so uncharacteristically messy, Finn knows immediately that something is wrong. His first thought is Rose and he sits up in a panic. Then he thinks of Rey and his panic increases, because it’s far more likely that something awful has happened to her on their Coruscant mission.

“What is it?” He asks Poe, whose mouth opens only to fall shut. He looks at Finn with a start, just realising that he can’t get the words out.

“Poe, what happened?” Finn asks again, even more alarmed now and all but jumps out of his bed.

“We just...,” Poe starts on a breath and pauses again, his head shaking in disbelief. “We just got word...”

He trails off, staring into the void as if he can find the strength to go on in there.

“Did something happen to Rey?” Finn takes a step towards the general, grabbing his arm. He would shake him, if Poe wasn’t white as a sheet, like he is inches away from crumbling to the floor.

“Not Rey. She’s fine,” he says and a weight lifts off Finn’s chest, only to immediately be replaced with another. If not Rey then who?

“Leia,” his best friend says tonelessly and as soon as the name leaves Poe’s lips, he flings himself against Finn like a child.

 

At first, Finn is so utterly stunned that he doesn’t move at all. It takes a long moment until he hugs Poe back, who isn’t crying but only barely. As soon as he does, Poe breaks apart from him and Finn has a very good idea that his composure was dangerously close to slipping for good. Knowing Poe, he’ll be chastising himself to keep it together, ever the dutiful general. When he speaks again, Finn hears the effort it takes to give the details.

“Bounty hunters, they got to them. Called the Troopers. They blew up the ship,” Poe mutters, his head wobbling in utter disbelief of the inescapable truth. “Leia was still inside. She’s gone.”

 

It’s unbelievable. There is no way Leia Organa would just die like that, blown up like a sitting duck; a piece of random, meaningless collateral damage.

“What are we gonna without her?” Poe asks him after a long, helpless silence and it’s not a rhetorical question. Finn does not, cannot, have an answer for him.

 

After some time of sitting wordlessly together, Finn moves Poe to the dining hall to warm up, mostly because Finn’s room is cold and Poe won’t stop shaking but also because Admiral Larma D’Acy sends a somewhat frantic request for a status update to Poe’s wrist comm. Poe hadn’t even acknowledged it, his eyes glazed over with what Finn assumes is shock.

D’Acy is waiting for them at one of the long rows of tables in the hall with a bottle of heavy spirits and more silence. The three of them are the only people on base who know what happened for the time being. Them and C3-PO, who had picked up Rey’s message originally and hasn’t been seen since. Their wordless vigil drags on for for hours.

“I don’t know if I can do this without Leia,” Poe says when dawn breaks and there is nothing to say to comfort him.

 

When the cooks start their early morning routine, Admiral D’Acy ushers Poe and Finn quickly to the command center and there they finally find the protocol droid, monitoring the airwaves all by himself.

“General, Rey and the rest have just made planetfall in a small cargo ship,” C3-PO announces after a time. “I have cleared them for landing. They should be arriving presently.”

 

There isn’t a noticeable tint to his mechanic voice, neither do his unchanging golden features move any more than they usually do. But to Finn, the droid appears even more distraught then Poe. And that figures, for out of all of them remaining, Threepio had been with Leia the longest.

“How are you holding up, Threepio?” Admiral D’Acy asks him tentatively, her own face ashen, almost green, like she is about to be sick.

“It appears Artoo has also perished in the attack,” the protocol droid says and that is answer enough. He awkwardly points at one of the blueish gleaming screens that has lit up a moment before. “The northern shield has just been passed.”

 

Finn is on his feet immediately, yet Poe and D’acy make no move to rise. They both look worn-out and dead to the world.

“I’ll go. You should try and get some sleep,” Finn says. “Best rest up while you can, it’ll be a long day.”

“The longest,” D’acy sighs and then rises slowly, patting a good-bye on 3-PO’s metal arm, before she gently tugs Poe up from where he’s sunken down on a stool. “Come on, general, I’ll see you to your room.” Poe follows, all the fight gone out of him, and Finn feels uneasy letting him alone like this. Still, it can’t be helped.

 

There are no more words when they part in the hallway and Finn’s steps echo in the gloomy night-time lighting all the way to the north hangar. The breaking dawn hitting his face once he steps outside feels like an assault and highly unbefitting the situation. How does the sun dare to shine like nothing is amiss while Princess Leia is not around anymore to see it? Alas, the sun _always_ rises and it’s reflected tenfold in the countless bumps and scratches of the nondescript cargo shuttle that touches down in that moment, it’s bottom latch springing open with a violent thud, rather than a graceful, hydraulic dip.

 

Rey’s feet touch the ground seconds after. With her puffy eyes, it’s a wonder she even sees Finn but when she does, she drops her bag and staff and darts forward, making her the second friend in his arms that night he has no idea how to console.

“I’m so sorry,” he tries anyway but instead of making anything better, it’s the thing that break her and she wails, her tears and snot wetting Finn’s neck and shirt.

 

Eventually she breaks apart from him and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, trying hard for composure and failing miserably.

“This is...this is,” she tries, her continuous sobs making it hard to understand her, “this is all my fault.”

“Don’t say that.” Maybe she will listen, although knowing her, it's unlikely.

“Yes, it is, if I hadn’t-,” she argues as expected but he cuts her off.

“No, don’t even start,” he repeats. “Don’t do that to yourself. This is nobody’s fault but those who did this.” Rey doesn’t hear him at all.

Finn wants to reiterate his point, and is prepared to do so until the sun has fully risen, but then the others disembark from the ship’s belly and that's that. The returned walk single-file with their heads bowed low; Chewbacca who picks up Rey's stuff as he walks, followed by Connix and BB8, who rolls down the latch with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, as if he had just dropped himself. Next is a slender girl with black and purple hair and brown skin who looks as lost as he feels. And then...no one else.

“Mela and Rusphil?” He asks Rey who just shakes her head, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

“They’re all dead because of me.”

“ _Rey_ ,” Finn tries again but instead of letting him help her, she pulls up her nose ungracefully and takes a step back to reign herself in.

She does this with a vigour and merciless severity that unsettles Finn. It reminds him too much of cast over eyes under stern brows, of a scar splitting a hard-angled, snarling face in half. Rey is stubbornly closing her pain off from him like she’s so prone to lately. If only he could make her see that she doesn’t need to feel so alone in all of it, because it is pretty clear that she does.

 

When Rey turns to the others in their approach and takes the new girl by the hand, the quiver in her voice as she speaks only barely betrays her true emotions.

“Deslin, this is Finn,” she says and the girl, Deslin, shakes his hand with a small, rather sad smile.

Finn can’t imagine this is a nice arrival by any measure, no matter what this child had left behind.

“Let’s get you settled in,” Rey says to her, braving a smile and then turns to the rest of them. “We should all get some sleep. It’s been a tough journey home.”

 

Chewbacca says something which makes Rey look at him with a strange mix of sympathy and injury and replies: “Oh, he knows, believe me.”

Before Finn can even begin to puzzle out what Chewie said or who they are talking about, Rey puts her hand on his wrist and squeezes, her features spelling out an apology that won’t cross her lips. “We’ll talk later, okay?” She says.

 

And then leaves him to brave that grim morning all by himself.

 

***

 

In her spartan bunk, Rey has just changed into her nightclothes (with half a heart to give the wretched tunics she wore to the mission to the fire, lest they keep reminding her of all that happened forever), when there’s a curt knock on her door. Sighing, she moves to open it. She isn’t really in the mood for visitors, doesn’t want to relay the whole story of how Leia Organa died quite yet. She knows she will have to before long but if she could get just a couple hours of rest in her own bed, that would be nice.

It seems like she won’t be granted a reprieve though, because in her doorframe stands Poe, looking worse for wear and about as depressed as she feels.

 

“Rey, I’m so sorry,” he says as hello and she nods, unable to reply. “We are going to announce it soon. I just wanted to let you know before we do. There will be some questions but we agreed to give you all the day until we’ll collect the full mission accounts. In the meantime, there’s something I need your help with.”

“What can I do?” Rey asks, slightly unwilling but ready to do what he asks of her, mostly because she doesn't have the heart to turn him away.

“For now, I just need you to come with me,” Poe says with a polite half-smile and makes way for her to come out of her room. Rey looks down at her loose training pants and rough cotton shirt and then back at Poe. “It’s fine, you don’t need to get dressed, it’s just around the corner.”

 

 _Just around the corner_ , Poe walks ahead of her, turns left and then Rey knows where they’re going. She stops in her tracks and it takes a while for Poe to notice that she has fallen behind.

“It’ll be fine,” he says when he sees her face. “I know it’s painful but Leia wanted you to have this right away.”

He holds up a letter for her to see but doesn’t pause to give it to her and so Rey has no choice but to follow.

 

Leia’s quarters, a two-room dwelling dimly lit up by three small, oblong windows at the top of the far wall, are exactly as the former General had left them. There are some robes flung heedlessly over the backs of the chairs surrounding a small table to the right, the pillows on her couch in the center of the room are still crumpled up from the last time she had sat on them and the lemony smell of her perfume still lingers in the air. It’s enough to make Rey yearn to just sit down and cry.

 

Rey had spent countless hours sitting on that couch with her, drinking tea and talking at times about how to best train new Jedi, at others of how to fix a freighter engine with a hair-pin or how to best deal with unruly children. (“Don’t heed my advice there too much,” Leia had told her, “we all know how my parenting turned out.”)

Rey can barely stomach the sight of it and presses on quickly after Poe. The thought that Leia will never again cross this room on lithe feet and produce a bottle of Kowakian rum from her private stash and spike their tea with a mischievous wink, is excruciating.

 

If possible, entering her bedroom is even worse. Rey has never been inside the room but the bed is unmade, sitting there as if to welcome its owner back for a restful night of sleep. Rey feels like an intruder as she casts her eye about the room. It’s sparsely furnished like all bunks at base. Next to the bed is merely a small table with a book and datapad on it and at the far wall a row of dark metal dresser-cases. Leia will never return to any of these possessions. It’s all so devoid of purpose now. Much like Rey feels as well.

 

“What are we doing here?” she asks with unease.

“Leia’s orders,” Poe explains. “I’m supposed to read you this letter, then you’ll understand.”

Rey hesitates but finally steps fully into the room to watch Poe sit down on the mattress and turn on the bedside lamp so he can read in the scant light.

 

“My dearest Rey, when you receive this letter, I will be dead,” Poe starts and Rey gasps. Leia wasn’t ever anything but thorough, so it isn’t a great surprise that she prepared for this but hearing her words now, after her death, feels eerie, like listening to a ghost.

“I don’t have many possessions and what little I have, I want to be put to best use for the Resistance. But I would like you, Rey, to have my rooms and all its contents, especially the dress cases in my bedroom. The old lady pieces are probably better suited for being torn apart to make new clothes,” Poe reads and Rey can’t help but snort. Leia had always been fatalistic about her age but these small, self-deprecating jabs at it had been so typical that it feels like she is once again in the room with them. Poe smiles too, loses the line and has to find it again before he can continue.

 

“The right one by the wall, however, contains a few pieces very dear to me; worn by me and my mother when we were both still as young and hopeful as you are. There is also a box you won’t get around to noticing, I trust you will know why I am leaving it in your care. Once upon a time, I had intended for all of this to eventually pass on to a granddaughter of mine. Should, by some miracle, ever come a time where I have one, I am sure you will hand it all down to her the way I am handing it down to you today.”

It’s hard hearing this, the defiant hope Leia has fought and tooth and nail to regain, of Ben coming back to the light after all, evident in her last words. Rey wonders if Leia would still be hoping so, if she knew it had been Ben’s bounty on Rey’s head that killed her.

 

“Rey,” Poe continues reading undeterred, “in many ways, you were to me the daughter that I never had and I thank the Force every day for bringing you to us. I don’t know about the circumstances of my death, if I have left you in battle or if I’ve just peacefully went to sleep, all I want for you is to continue to be strong and to keep that spark in you burning. You were always a beacon for everybody here and I pray you will continue to guide us and light the way home for those of us who are lost.”

Rey takes a step toward the case, touching her fingertips against the cold metal surface, tracing one of the intricate lines it is embellished with and hides her face from Poe. She is so tired of having people watch her cry.

“May the Force be with you,” Poe reads and she can hear him fold the letter back together. “Always.”

 

Next, Leia’s bed groans with the weight of his body being lifted off of it and Rey can’t bring herself to look at him.

“I’m going to have someone bring over your things,” he tells her. “In the afternoon, we’ll have a memorial for her, on the weeping hill.”

“Thank you,” Rey rasps out and puts her forehead on the dress case, knowing she has to open it but unsure if she is even rudimentarily ready for it. Poe silently leaves her to ponder this by herself.

 

Eventually, after pacing through the room a couple of times, trying to talk herself out of the eeriness of taking Leia’s rooms for herself and pouring over the letter Poe has left on the bedside table, Rey comes back to the case. Tentatively moving in to touch it again, it feels like she is about to open the door to a past she shouldn’t even be privy to. Still, she pushes down on a button at the front lightly and the case hisses in immediate response. The sweet but stale smell of old perfume lingering in different fabrics wafts across her face as the hydraulics decompress the air in the case and its door swings open gracefully to the right.

Inside, it reveals a neatly organised collection of gowns, pants, blouses, jackets and shoes. The dresses come in every colour, some of them incredibly bulky attached with large wire collars and cantilevered applications, various headpieces clipped to the tops of the hangers. Rey’s eyes go wide at the intricate designs and she can’t help but run her fingers over the different makes and models. She has never seen finely made clothes like this before in real life, has never touched satin or velvet quite as exquisite as this.

 

On the left, there are several compartments, reaching from the top of the case all the way to the bottom and sorted in there are light pants and leggings, sheer blouses, intimates, silky nightgowns, shoes and there, at the bottom, two wooden boxes. One of them looks like an old music box Rey once scavenged from the ruins of a star destroyer on Jakku and the other saying ‘Ben’ on the front in the clumsy hand of a child.

 

Rey swallows hard. Leia had been right, there was no way for her to miss _that_.

 

Propelled by curiosity stronger than anything she can fight, Rey sinks down on the floor and crosses her legs before taking out the box and eyeing it with a sort of caution that would suggest it might blow up in her hands if she is not careful. On top of it, it says in decorative letters that Rey has a hard time deciphering with how little she is accustomed to reading calligraphy: “FOR BENJAMIN ORGANA SOLO”. Underneath it in a smaller, slanted hand it reads: “ _born 5ABY Q4 D23 in Hanna City, Chandrilla_ ”.

 

“Benjamin,” she mouths and gingerly traces the inscription before bracing herself with a long exhale to open the box. From what she knows of these things (which is not a lot), Rey gathers it's a keepsake chest, as it holds items she would guess once held significance in the life of a child.

There is a small, soft blanket made of fine gillendown on top and Rey carefully removes it to take out the other pieces one by one: a pair of gold dice connected by a chain. A set of frail but exquisite looking quills rolled in dark brown leather. A sealed letter with his name on it which Rey puts to the side quickly as if it might burn her fingers. A small journal covered front to back in a child’s handwriting, telling on one page in great detail of explorations and rows with friends and on another gives a painstaking protocol of an overheard argument. On the next page are incredibly detailed and remarkably correct schematic sketches of the Falcon and other starships. Rey doesn’t dare to browse on beyond those, already feeling horrible for having trespassed so much into something so private.

 

Once she has put the diary carefully to the side, a sheen in the bottom of the box catches her eye. She reaches down to fish out a long, tightly braided strand of black hair, tied on both ends with a small elastic band. Underneath lies a small note in a neat, delicate hand Rey does not know yet: “27AB, no more Padawan braid, Luke’s proper apprentice now”.

 

Rey remembers what she had seen in Ben’s memory, from back when he had still been Luke’s apprentice. She recalls the terror he had felt the night Luke tried to kill him and Ben went on to destroy his master’s temple for betraying him. She recalls Ben in his bed, sleeping next to his calligraphy set and lightsaber, a Jedi in training just like her little band of younglings now, and holds the note tight between two fingers. If Luke had just given him a chance back then, none of the horrible things that had lead to Rey sitting crouched in his dead mother’s room, would have happened. For no fully formed reason, Rey snags the pair of dice from the chest and drops them on the mattress before she re-assembles the remaining contents and puts it back in its place.

 

The message Leia sent in leaving her this is clear and daunting all at once. She had died still believing that Rey can bring back her son. But how? Rey has tried for a year and all Ben has done is get worse, allowing his First Order to exploit the systems, make them chase the Resistance from one end of the galaxy to the other and meet every attempt of Rey to convince him to reconsider with snickers and dismissals. And now Leia is dead because of him. Her heart hammers in her chest, a million things whirling through her head, making any attempt of honestly grasping the severity of what this keepsake box means for the rest of her life impossible for the time being.

 

Thus, instead of trying to, Rey pushes herself off from the floor and turns her attention back on the other new treasure chest she has received. As she rises, a brownish-red velvety ensemble catches her eye and she has the unbidden idea to _wear_ it. Which is ridiculous, of course.

The ensemble is made up of a dress, loose pants of the same fabric, matching red shoes and a soft, light, sleeveless coat, it’s colour turning from an off-white to a soft light purple at the bottom, embroidered with delicate blue stitching reaching down to the floor. Once Rey is fully back on her feet again, she gently runs her fingertips over the garments. Before she can help herself, Rey has taken it out of the dresser and laid it down on the bed. Instinctively, she knows this one belonged to Leia and maybe the idea of putting it on isn’t as ridiculous as she originally thought. Wouldn’t it be nice to have it on her for Leia’s de facto funeral? If only for support and at best–for commemoration?

 

Rey has already stepped out of her slippers and stripped off her sleep shirt when she finishes the thought. Slipping into the clothes is a quick affair and it makes her feel marginally more put together than before, which is a miracle in and of itself. Maybe these clothes can be her armour for the day. Preparing for battle, Rey tucks her hair back from where it flows free, now grown so long it has started curling around her collar bone, and puts it in a firm knot, high on her head. When she goes to check in the mirror at the far wall if her bun is in the center of her head, she is startled to a halt.

 

The girl staring back at Rey in the reflection, looks nothing like the dirty Jakku desert rat that she knows. Even if her humble breasts can’t quite fill the bodice of the dress, the fabric hanging too loose there to be a perfect fit, Rey still appears, perhaps for the first time, like a grown woman. Now that Leia is gone, Rey has to step up. It’s too much to presume that she could ever fill those shoes or replace her even a tiny bit, but Rey _can_ stand tall and do her part. To honour Leia and all that she fought for.

 _There’s no way but forward_ , Rey thinks and pushes down the lump in her throat. _And no way back._

On an impulse, she takes the pair of dice from the bed for good luck, shoves them into one of the pockets she discovers on the side-seams of her dress and braces herself.

 

Although she is not quite ready to brave the bustle on base, not ready to witness the ripples caused by the news of Leia’s death and be confronted with a thousand questions and –even worse– pity, she knows she can’t hide herself away forever. Eventually, she will have to come out of this room and join the mourning on the weeping hill. It was named for the lone, tall willow on a supple hilltop south of the base, more than fitting for the occasion. Right now, she still needs a minute, but then she will make her way to that hill and then forward from there. And hopefully make Leia proud.

 

***

 

After Admiral D’Acy had walked him to his quarters like a concerned aunt and he had dutifully attempted to sleep for three hours, Poe had given up trying. It felt better to be doing something, anything. And actually, there was something that did need his immediate attention, which was to enact the orders Leia had given him months ago to be followed through in the event of her death.

 

They were, in that order: Let everyone know she died, organise a gathering in her memory, give Rey the letter with her will and then lastly, milk her death for all the unifying speeches to come in all eternity. Back when Leia had suggested this latter part, in the relative security of their base, Poe had laughed about the dark humor, now that laugh was permanently stuck in his throat.

 

When he had used the secret Resistance frequencies and Leia’s codes to spread the news of her demise, though, within a few hours, ships had begun to appear on Kowak, requesting to land with many, if not all, of the new arrivals vowing on the spot to now finally join the cause, to honour Leia’s memory. So she had been right, there had been power in her death. Inside him, he can hear Leia cackle, his imagination so sharp he can see her forehead crease into a frown in his mind’s eye. “If I had known I’d be so much more use to you all dead,” he imagines her saying, “I’d have died years ago.”

 

Shortly before the allotted time of the memorial, the most important guest arrives, sending the older officers and commanders into a frenzy. He had been among the first to reply to Poe’s message, urging him to hold off any commemorations until he and his people had arrived and in the council, the talk of the old Rebel war hero had risen to near-shrieks.

 

Lando Calrissian, with his whole protectorate, a 700-soul strong militia with half that number in ships and x-wings as well as all their families, would be joining the Resistance within the course of the day and Calrissian himself will speak on the weeping hill, one of the last people alive who can attest to the hero Leia had been as a young woman. Poe thinks this is all well and good, although he doesn’t understand the big excitement, the near exaltation of some of the older council members. It seems utterly ill-befitting for their circumstances and he shoots more than one angry glare around the command center when the anecdotes and praise of Calrissian get too excited and high-spirited. Maybe it’s just him who can’t just go back to the daily grind as if nothing had happened but he _is_ the general now and if he insists on some level of adequate etiquette, the others better adhere to it.

 

Still, when the famed war hero lands outside the base and is greeted by the council, even Admiral D’Acy, who Poe had never pegged as overly prone to such displays and also in all honesty found much too old for anything like it, _giggles_ beside him as Calrissian is presented to them. Poe introduces her and himself to the man who greets them with an easy smile that verbarates charme and self-assurance even at his ripe age.

“A sad occasion to be joining your war effort, General,” he says apologetically with a calming and pleasant bass, “but better late than never, right?”

“Right,” Poe agrees and shoots the man a smile of his own.

“May I introduce my son Alsan and my daughters Sallin and Aandreja?” Calrissian takes a step away to have his offspring shake Poe’s and D’Acy’s hand and Poe in turn nods over to Rey, who has finally re-emerged from Leia’s rooms, and stands with Finn by the hangar gate, observing the scene.

“This is Rey,” Poe says once she has closed the distance to them. “Leia was helping her rebuild the Jedi Order before her death.”

 

“My, my…,” Calrissian pauses, his hand closed around Rey’s and he stares at her clothes intendedly, as if they are the most wonderous things he has ever seen. “I know this dress. This is one of Leia’s.”

Now it’s Poe’s turn to re-evaluate Rey’s outfit, finding if it is really something that had once belonged to Leia, it must have been decades ago, for he has never seen her wear it in all the years knowing her.

“It keeps her close,” Rey says with a sad smile.

“So it does, child,” Lando Calrissian agrees and brings his free hand up to Rey’s shoulder to squeeze it comfortingly. “So it does.”

 

Soon, the base personnel starts migrating to the weeping hill. Poe watches Rey a little ways ahead, deep in conversation with Calrissian when Finn catches up with him halfway up the dirt trail to the top.

“How are you holding up?” His friend asks him.

“Okay,” Poe replies which is the naked truth. “Better than last night. But I still can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I,” Finn agrees. “I’m worried about Rey.”

“She’ll be fine,” Poe says and it’s almost a throwaway thing.

Of course she will be fine, she has an entire wardrobe and a letter to light her way forward from Leia. He had gotten _instructions_. He’s not jealous per se, not really, but in the tiny place in his heart where he is still a little boy, he envies Rey the last words that she got. He’s grown up enough to admit that to himself. Alas, it is what it is and Poe has to push on. He had allowed himself the night to grief, now he has to fan the fire that Leia’s passing had set in the hearts of the Resistance. And that fire is alight, this much is obvious by the turn-out; the entire hill is crawling with people and Poe believes the only people from base not here are the sick and those attending to them. Counting all those who came quickly to join in remembrance, they’re now well over a thousand–probably more around one-thousand-five-hundred coming together.

 

It takes a while for everybody to gather around the clearing next to the weeping willow where the tech-team has installed a headstone for a grave that is merely symbolic. It’s made of a broken off T70-X-wing’s wing, narrowing at the top with the the canons removed and an oval taken out of the center where a holo-portrait of Leia’s face is projected in soft blue hues, smiling down at the thickening crowd.

Next to the wing stands a microphone, waiting to amplify Lando Calrissian’s voice when he makes his speech. The man himself has stolen to the side, waiting patiently for the moment his audience has settled in enough to start speaking. Once he decides it’s time to step up to the mic, they all fall silent in the blink of an eye and Poe wonders if he will ever get to a point where he would command this much attention.

 

“I’m not sure anybody aside from the few old crones here remembers me, but my name is Lando Calrissian,” he begins, Poe standing a few paces behind him, keeping an eye on the mass. “A lifetime ago, I fought side by side with Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and General Organa against Darth Vader and the Empire. But when the First Order emerged, I chose not to get involved, to make sure my people were safe and kept out of harm’s way.”

 

Some faces harden at the admission but most seem more understanding than anything, like they would have maybe made the same decision knowing what they’ve had to endure to get here.

“I received the General’s distress signal last year,” Calrissian continues, “and I’m deeply ashamed that I did not heed her call. I should have. Now I’ll never have a chance to say goodbye to my very dear friend, to-” He takes a breath and for the first time since he began to speak, his dark complexion reddens and he has to fight for composure for a moment. “...To our princess. Or tell her how sorry I am.”  

 

It feels as if the audience gives a collective shudder at Leia’s old royal title, at how it brings back to mind the legend of her younger years. Leia, one of the few Alderaanians left alive, a beautifully fierce princess who fought for a liberated and free galaxy until her last breath.

“But I know that if she were with us now, she would not so gently slap the back of my head and tell me that at least now that I’m here, I can get on and do my part.” Calrissian pauses for some subdued but heartfelt laughs from people who must have known Leia intimately, for they’re the ones who know how right he is. “So let me promise you today: What’s mine is yours. My people, my resources, my connections. We will stand with you and make sure that Leia’s death has not been in vain.”

 

Another pause and then Calrissian straightens to his full height, oozing charisma and confidence, giving the crowd exactly what it needs: “We will fight together from now on! For the galaxy. For all its inhabitants. And for Leia!” He throws his fist to the sky and keeps it there and for a moment, there is a shockwave passing over the audience and then the cheer is echoed thousand-fold, Poe’s fist high in the air as well as he yells “For Leia!” from the bottom of his heart.

 

***

 

Long after the crowd has broken apart from the weeping hill, Rey is standing alone between the willow and Leia’s headstone, staring at the holo-portrait inside the wing and wonders why she can’t cry anymore. She wants to and wanted to even more when she had looked around during Lando Calrissian’s speech and saw so many of her friends tear up, not to mention the hundreds that she had never laid eyes on before who done the same. But it seems that her tears have subsided and had made way for a cold, dark fury Rey had not allowed herself to fully feel for days. In Leia’s room, dressed in her clothes and shrouded in a false calm, Rey had deluded herself into believing that she could go forward, make Leia proud of her and honour her life by emulating her grace and wits.

But the gathering had broken her open, the sheer volume of sentients come to grieve the woman who was the closest thing Rey had ever had to a mother, had both touched and made her feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Rey had taken their heroine from them, their spearhead, their war hammer, the very spirit of the rebellion. Whatever pathetic idea she had had of being a woman grown now, centered and ready to brave the battle with Leia’s refined maturity and sense, is taken by the soft breeze. Rey feels like a child, like an angry, helpless, tormented and _vengeful_ child.

 

This isn’t right. It isn’t fair. Leia had fought and fought and fought, all her life. And what was her thanks? A miserable death on a miserable moloch of a planet in anonymity. The legacy she had tried to leave for the galaxy smashed to bits of her own son’s making, her life, snuffed out so senselessly, so randomly as a side-note of a story, a line or two in the mission accounts: _And then Leia Organa died_. It’s infuriating, tearing at Rey’s composure, gnawing at her very soul, making her hurt, physically, all over. Rey smoothes out Leia’s dress along her thighs, hoping to somehow calm herself down but not really succeeding.

 

And then, there’s a tremor in her blood, a familiar push and pull and then there’s the old roaring she is loathe to even acknowledge. But it’s no use. Two sets of intense feelings flitter through her body like insects, rage and pain, biting at her insides and it’s too hard to keep the Force at bay, too exhausting to stop Ben from appearing next to her, staring ahead at the memorial he can’t see but not for the lack of trying.

 

“Go. Away.” She bites out. She doesn’t want him near her.

“Rey,” he says pleadingly and steps into her line of view, blocking out the whole wing with his broad, tall frame.

“No,” she snaps, all her rage bubbling to the surface. “You haven’t said a word to me in months, Ben. And now you want… what, forgiveness?” She looks him square in the eye, his face ever expressive, practically bleeding heartbreak and grief. “I won’t give that to you,” she declares.

If possible, his face sinks even lower, his lips quivering and eyes puffy like he hasn’t slept in days. He looks like a little boy who has just lost his mother. When Rey realizes this, she adds: “Not today.” She can’t help her foolish, persistent compassion from re-emerging for him, stubbornly and again and again, although her words still come out harsh, full of reproach and reprehension.

 

“I never meant for this to happen,” he says helplessly and sounds _weak_ , so much younger than his years. She can’t abide it.

“Yeah, well, it did.” Her voice is venom and her eyes daggers, both aimed sharply at the heart of him. A pitiful, lurid part of her wants him to pay for what he did to her. “Those were _your_ blood hounds! You could’ve called them off anytime but you never did. You put that price on our heads, the highest bounty in the galaxy! Surely you can’t be surprised.”

“Don’t you see that I’m in agony?” He asks her, getting closer and there is no doubting his sincerity, she wouldn’t even need the visual of his watery eyes for proof. “That I’m suffering?”

“So am I. So is everybody here,” Rey snaps, holding her ground. “This whole damn galaxy. We’re all suffering.”

“I just want it all to stop,” he mutters forlornly, more to himself than to her. “If I could–”

“Aren’t you the Supreme Leader?” Rey, meanwhile, is nearly shouting. “ _Make it stop.”_

 

For a moment Ben is silent and Rey wishes he would just crawl back into the hole he’s come out of to haunt her. But he stays -he always, _always_ stays– and something in the way he stares back at her changes, becomes hard and defiant.

“You shouldn’t have left me,” he says.

“Oh, don’t you _dare_ put this on me!” Rey jams her finger into his black-clad chest and her knuckles crack against the resistance. “It was you who turned your back when you chose this path. I wanted you to come back with me! To come home.”

 

And isn’t this the awful truth? That she really had believed this, that she had risked everything by coming to him, facing the monster Snoke that had tormented Ben for most of his life, that monster who had sought to destroy her too, for the foolish, naive notion that she could have saved this man and turned him to her cause? Wasn’t he too far gone? Shouldn’t she have known? No matter what Leia had tried to achieve leaving Ben Solo’s memory chest in Rey’s keeping, she does not see a way to get him back anymore, doubts even that he deserves the chance to.

 

“No, _you_ abandoned _me_ ,” he argues, as he was bound to. Adamant, misconceiving and stubborn like a child. “After everything I did, after I gave you everything I had left.”

“And yet here we are: You have the entire galaxy under your thumb and I have an empty grave to mourn your mother,” she practically spits in his face. “ _I_ am the one who has nothing left. Because you took it from me.”

In her rage, Rey reaches into the pocket at the side of her dress and rips out the golden dice, she holds them high for him to see, snarling and squaring her jaw before throwing them unto the pale green grass. “They’re all gone.”

 

Ben’s reaction is too quick to process. He sees the dice, his features snapping out of control into a mix of confusion and stupor, then recognition, then terror, then unspeakable pain. A heartbeat after the dice have hit the ground, he follows them down, grasping for the pair desperately but ultimately idle, because he can only _see_ them now, not touch. His movements become frantic before they suddenly cease entirely and Rey can only watch him crouched on the floor in perplexity. This is not the reaction she had anticipated.

 

Neither is the muffled sound of crying that comes after. Or his hand, his bare hand, grabbing hold of her thigh as if to steady himself from the quiet sobs that shake his body. Unbidden, Rey’s hand falls onto his bowed head, her fingers kneading into his thick locks on their own accord, like magnets snapping into place. His skin is hot to the touch, so much so that she guesses he is running a fever and he clamours for the contact like a starved man. Ben rises onto his knees, so tall still that he reaches up to her chest. He brings his other arm around her waist and pushes his face into the folds of her dress, only to emerge again after a long inhale with a startled gasp.

 

“You’re wearing her clothes,” he says on a shaky breath, voice split in realisation, and holds her tighter, digging his nails so hard into her that she can feel them even through the thick fabric. “Why are you wearing her clothes?”

 

Rey is thrown back to a million years ago, to a memory she has half forgotten. Of a small girl in a big AT-AT, clutching the scarf of a mother who had sold her like junk, burying her face in it and crying and crying, inhaling that comforting, longed-for scent until it had faded into oblivion, much like the mother who had once owned it. And Rey understands. _Stars in the skies_ , she understands. He _never_ meant for this to happen. She can feel his feelings and hear his jumbled thoughts as if they were her own, flooding through their bond, through the inexcapeable proximity of their bodies.

 

As much as Ben had gone on and on about killing the past and rising from its ashes, as little had he ever been prepared to lose his mother. A year ago, when he had thought she was dead for a second after his squadron had shot apart her ship’s bridge as the Resistance tried to flee D’Qar, that second had been the longest he’d ever endured. And it had proven to himself without a doubt that he wanted her to survive however long this war would drag on. It had proven that whatever grudge he still harboured, it wasn’t enough, _never_ enough to wish for her death.

 

He had hated neither of his parents, only ever yearned for their affection, their approval and the injury of feeling like they had forsaken him had split him in half even as a boy. He had been constantly torn between trying to please them, hoping to earn their love and being angry because he felt they would not bestow it on him freely. And at the heart of it all had always been _love_ . He had loved them both so much. He had loved them so that this love had turned into a cancer that ate away at him, spread darkness like tar across his soul. He had loved them with a full, whole heart that slowly turned into a throbbing, pulsating coil of misery, held together by rage. There had been no hope of escaping it because that dark thing was _inside_ him, caged in his chest like a horrifying monster tainting everything inside. Loving as fiercely as he did had been his unraveling from the beginning and when that broken heart of his had, by sheer hope, put itself together again to fall in love with _her_ , she had turned her back on him and left him alone with it.

 

Rey pulls his head closer to her, her very _own_ heart racing and she wants to say something, tell him that she understands, that she knows now, tell him... _something_. Something she isn’t even sure she is ready or even capable of putting into words but then someone yells her name.

Ben’s head whips up like he has heard it too, even if Rey is unsure that he could have, and they stare at each other for a frantic moment.

 _Don’t leave me_ , his eyes scream.

 _I don’t want to_ , hers reply.

 

“Is everything alright?” A girl’s voice says behind Rey and Ben is gone, leaving her bereft and confused.

“It will be,” Rey says after a moment of scrambling for some composure. “I hope.”

Deslin stalks gingerly into her line of sight, already dressed in her training tunic, with a light blue jacket that is definitely not part of the ensemble tied around her waist, and looks around as if she is chasing an elusive bunny.

“Who was that?” She asks and Rey’s breath stalls for a moment until she can make sense of how in the worlds the girl had seen him.

 _Just like Luke_. Luke had seen him too, back in her hut on Ach-To. Their connection had been strong enough to allow solid touch and apparently, enough for those strong with the Force to see them together. Still, Rey has no intention of discussing any of this with a fifteen year old.

 

“Nobody. Nothing,” she lies. “Just a shadow.”

Deslin seems content with that answer for the time being. Rey senses this is mostly because her new youngling has something else on her mind.

“Mistress Rey? I have a question,” Deslin promptly announces, confirming Rey’s suspicion. “About the Jedi. I want to be one, I really do but...in all the stories they say that the Jedi never loved anyone, that they weren’t allowed to. But I’m sure I want…” The girl pauses, as if the speech she has obviously prepared is missing its end. “–To love someone, eventually. I don’t think I can give that up. Does that mean I can’t stay here and train with you?”

Rey takes an even breath and then squeezes Deslin’s wrists reassuringly. “It’s alright,” she says, because that’s one question she actually has an answer for. “I’m doing things a little different this time. It says nothing about staying away from love in the original Jedi texts, did you know that? On the contrary: They say you need love for balance, to conquer the fear we all have inside us.”

Deslin ponders this for a second and then nods slowly. “That sounds very wise.”

“Doesn’t it?” Rey says and smiles sadly.

 

***

 

For an entire standard year, the most frequent emotion Armitage Hux has felt is hate. Seething, all-encompassing, furious loathing. His _Supreme Leader_ (even thinking the title in combination with the man makes him physically sick), the snivelling, incompetent man-child that is Kylo Ren had not spared him a day of humiliation and senseless ordering around, as if Hux was nothing but a puppet on a string, doing his master’s bidding. And Hux has no way of stopping it.

Ren would throw him about like a rag doll, quite literally, whenever anything did not go his way or Hux reminded him rightfully of the consequences of his infantile tantrums; how much it cost to patch up a corridor Ren carelessly cut up into smithereens with his laser sword, how many TIEs they already lost because Ren would send them into battle with lone Resistance x-wings, that ended up nothing but bait for an ambush; or how Ren has no idea of making _smart_ trade agreements and keeps losing them good money whenever he sticks his crooked nose into things that shouldn’t concern him. And with his sorcery, he is worse than Snoke had ever been.

 

The things Kylo Ren should be concerned with however, namely the eradication of the darned Resistance, fell to the wayside. Ren had dealt with the rebel scum so inefficiently that it almost seemed like he _wanted_ them to quietly rebuild and garner strength as they did. Ren had done so little, Hux had to cover even these bases himself and steadily raised the bounties on the outlaws, pushing for record numbers especially for the wretched Rey of Jakku. Having her head on a platter would be the height of those annoying efforts, especially if Hux could be the one to present said head to Ren. The Supreme Leader tries to hide his obsession with the girl but continuously fails to. Hux can’t put his finger on exactly what is going on there but he understands enough to know that Ren wants to own the little Jedi like a prize and that he wants her caught alive. This fact by itself would make it deliciously pleasing to ensure her death...and, if the stars all aligned, to have Ren watch her perish. It would go to show how proficient Hux is, how superior to Ren even without the unfair advantage of the Force. That if Hux can even destroy the Jedi when Ren can’t would prove once and for all that the First Order had no room anymore for Snoke’s disgraced apprentice. That in their new galaxy, Ren was obsolete and all his mingling only an hindrance.

 

The worst thing Kylo Ren does, beside butchering Hux’s military operations with his brashness and lack of tactical foresight, bellowing orders before taking a second to think them through to conclusion, is how inserts himself into policy meeting after policy meeting, presuming he knows the best way to put order into things. The height of Ren’s stupidity when it comes to that matter, is his insistence of enabling social systems: a cap for working hours as well as a set and equal minimum wage, insurances for _families_ and workers who suffer injuries while at work.

In his latest ruling –because while even Hux and everyone else at their chamber meetings has to propose and defend new orders and rules, Kylo Ren can just decide how he wants things run and it is immediately _law_ – there had been a new provision forbidding child labour.

This, the Supreme Leader had merely determined on a whim, was unjust and he had not stopped for a second to consider what a grave financial loss it would inflict on the First Order to lose this part of its workforce. Not to mention what it would mean for Hux’s own priority operation, the fostering of new generations of stormtroopers. Kylo Ren’s ridiculous law would have the children Hux harvested from across the galaxy be treated like _students_ , like Courscantis or Chandrillian kids, like high-borns instead of the vermin, bastard-scum they were, only elevated to importance by the harsh but effective training the First Order provided them with. Ren had went so far as to try and impose a _curriculum_ on Hux, with suggestions for essential reading and a daily time table. Ren’s complete cluelessness as to how the entire grooming of the stormtroopers worked had been so apparent, Hux had been close to forgetting himself. If those children would be even half as coddled as Ren would have them be, they would turn out soft and weak and the whole operation would eventually crumble to dust. Their whole organization, the whole _galaxy_ would, if Ren had his way and his will enacted. Which is exactly why Hux has not done any of it.

 

Hux operates thusly in a lot of cases, in those he had to obey, he was left to cleaning up after Ren. All that work is the only thing that has kept the First Order from falling apart in the passed year. While Kylo Ren was happy having barked his ridiculous, quixotic orders and then walked away, foolishly believing just because he styled himself a leader he also had earned the right to be revered as such, Hux quietly only ever served one master: himself.

Thanks to _him_ they are ruling the galaxy now, thanks to _him_ they have created an army of brand new battle droids which stock-up the ranks of his stormtroopers and further cement their military supremacy in the galaxy, thanks to _him_ the faithful followers of the First Order prosper. And Hux prospers, because he is smart enough to scrape his share of rewards off the top. He deserves those a tenfold! His foresight and strategic thinking, his knack for lawmaking and pulling strings, for bending people to his will by using his wits and cunning instead of that twisted, unnatural Force, had served them all a million times better than Kylo Ren’s erratic behavior ever could.

And before long, Hux will have found the proof of his Supreme Leader’s utter incompetence. Once he has it, he will take the bastard down, if it’s the last thing he does. And no one will stop him, not Ren with his alien powers, (he can use the _Force_ all he wants, it won’t help him against a host of battle droids descending on him), nor any of the so-called knights the Supreme Leader has foolishly sent off to carry out his wishes on the dreadnoughts patrolling the systems.

 

When the time comes, there will be nothing to shield Kylo Ren from the general’s righteous wrath.

 

Armitage Hux sits in his quarters on the _Ascendancy_ , mulling his bountiful misgivings over as he sets up his work station at his desk; the datapad, the dictapad and even an actual notebook with a real pen, to jot down thoughts quickly as he has them. For the last three days, Ren had locked himself in his room so there is lots of material to sift through. But maybe this time, the forsaken mumpsimus has finally given himself away. If he has, all those hours Hux has wasted on cataloguing Ren’s words and whereabouts (in addition to the not insignificant task to control the galaxy while answering to the whims of an unpredictable, imbecilic _child_ ), will at last be worth it.

 

“Load all new audio from the Supreme Leader’s chambers into the system,” Hux commands the BB9-E unit which is awaiting orders nearby and quickly rolls over to connect its memory to that of Hux’s untraceable, personal datanet. “Let’s see what secrets you are keeping, Solo.”

 

***

 

On the way back to the base, Deslin Nok Gerso stays close to Rey, half hiding herself behind her. The last couple of days have been a lot to process and she feels ill-equipped at best to deal with any of it. She is a useless child among all these fierce soldiers, lost and overwhelmed more than she had anticipated after she had decided to follow Garric of the Resistance. When he’d approached her after a gruelling shift at the pleasure house she worked for in Coruscant, he had offered her a way out of her circumstances, ones that would have turned even bleaker come her sixteenth birthday. “In a few months we’ll put ya to _real_ work, girl,” Jaliza, the lady of the establishment, had said to Deslin a couple of weeks ago, leaving no doubt in her mind about her boss’ plans to take Deslin from scrubbing floors to scrubbing other things and make her business the most credit Deslin’s small, girlish body would be able to afford. That night, Garric had posed as a john, taken her aside and had told her of Rey, who was searching the galaxy for children like her–  strong with the Force –to join her new order of Jedi.

 

This had sounded as unbelievable at the time as it does now. Sure, deep down Deslin had always known that she was different, had felt things stronger than others. That she was able to sense the incessant electricity coursing through Coruscant like a current, making the lights around her flicker at will and the music wafting through the dance salon turn to static when everything got too loud for her. But Deslin had never thought that this was the _Force_ living inside her, that she was _special_. In the end, she had not thought much about her parents who had sold her off to the brothel when she was little older than ten, or the host of siblings she had, also working in similar establishments all over the quadrant. She had decided to flee while she still could and to start a new life, fighting to maybe one day liberate all of them.

 

However, she had not expected for her escape to come at such a high cost. It hadn’t been until she sat in the bow of the ship they’d stolen from port that Deslin learned it was Leia Organa that had died trying to protect them. _The_ Leia Organa, the rebel princess, then New Republic senator. Deslin had grown up with stories about her, about how she had fought the empire and went on to marry the ruggedly handsome Han Solo who became the most famous pilot in all of the galaxy. Then, years ago when Deslin was just a little girl and all of Coruscant had been plastered with Leia’s aged face, revealing her true, scandalous parentage, public opinion had swayed against her slightly, but never in Deslin’s neck of the woods. To her, Princess Leia has always been a hero.

 

And now, in an insane turn of events, Deslin has unwittingly become the reason the princess was dead. It shook her to the core, had reduced her to crying in Rey’s arms like a baby before her new mistress had given her her first lesson in mediation.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Rey had told her, “don’t even think that for a second.”

Then she’d sent Deslin back to focus on her breathing and letting the Force float through her, promising it would award her with a peace Deslin had not quite found yet. Even less so, faced with the thousands of people mourning Princess Leia just an hour before. Deslin still can’t help feeling responsible and scrutinized–as if all of them knew they had traded in their beloved heroine for a street rat; a dirty, low-born beggar, little better than a courtesan who had done nothing yet to show her worth.

 

To show her worth though, was something Deslin was dead-set on. She can hardly wait to start her training. Even more now that Rey had assured her how her dreams of love and romance did not have to be cast away for the sake of becoming a Jedi. Maybe it was stupid to hold on to these old dreams but Deslin can’t help it. Sure, she would have set them aside if she would have had to, eventually. Because as things were, she had nowhere else to go. But it was infinitely better knowing that she wouldn’t have to. Rey quickens her steps beside her and Deslin matches them. In a few moments, she will finally formerly meet the other trainees and join their efforts. In the pit of her stomach, her nerves fight with her excitement over dominance but it’s not altogether unpleasant; exhilaration outweighs the fear, which is something she has not felt in years.

 

Once inside the hangar, they cross it briskly to get to the training room. The air is colder there and stale, smelling of old fuel and tire rubber and Deslin slips into the thin jacket she had tied around her hips. Rey keeps pressing on as if they’re running late–that is, until she stops, next to the doors that open to the med bay. She does it so suddenly that Deslin almost runs on into her.

 

“This is unacceptable!” A man’s voice shouts from behind the milky glass panels. “You said she was going to wake up!”

“I’m not a magician, you know,” a woman argues in reply. “Going from the charts, Rose should have been better months ago but our resources are limited. Her blood type is extremely rare, only found in populations native to Hays Minor. We’re doing the best with what we have but her system isn’t taking to it. According to our databases, since Paige Tico died, the only other Hays Minor native in the Resistance is on a long-term reconnaissance mission and can’t be called back.”

Deslin is trying to make sense of who they’re listening in on and what they’re talking about, but Rey just stands stick-stiff and frowns in worry.  

“So what now?” The man asks. “What are you saying?”

“In any other circumstance we’d surgically assist the healing process,” the woman who must be a doctor, says. “But without any blood reserves on hand it’s too risky. I’m not sure there is much more we can do at this point.”

 

There is a rumble in the atmosphere, a flurry crossing the air which Deslin has felt often emanating from people who are denied what they want and soon enough, the panels from the doorway swish open and a stocky black man bursts into the corridor and nearly crashes into Rey. It’s the man who had greeted them after landing in the early morning. Finn.

 

Deslin instinctively steps behind Rey because she can’t help but feel like she is intruding on a private moment when Rey touches his arm, leaning in emphatically.

“What happened?” She asks, her voice soft and concerned.

“She won’t wake up, she just won’t wake up,” Finn mutters and doesn’t even acknowledge Deslin’s presence. She can’t fault him though, he seems entirely out of it, the air crackling with his dense feelings of desperate frustration. “I can’t lose her too. We can’t keep losing people. It’s...something about her blood. She needs...blood. From her home world. Which we don’t have.”

 

Then Finn stops and the static changes, as if a change of trajectory has just occurred to him, the shift from anger to reinvigorated hope so profound, Deslin experiences a definite sensation of whiplash.

“Rey, Rose needs blood from her _home world_!” Finn repeats and grabs his friend by both shoulders as if he plans on shaking her. “I can take her there! I can take her to Hays Minor, to her parents, and then–”

He stops talking the same moment he lets go of Rey and stares into the distance. When Deslin blinks next, he has brushed past them, jumping into immediate action and she and Rey stay behind, left to watch him quickly jog out of sight, looking like a man on a mission.

 

Deslin supposes that he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already love Deslin more than my own life...I hope you like her too :)


	4. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote like the devil! (Again!) And here it is...the new instalment of our angst-fest in space.
> 
> Thank you to my beta's @rose-dumas and @below5 for their incredible work and help and also to every single one of you who commented or gave kudos or reached out to me on tumblr (you can find me over @jackpotgirl btw), you make writing fun. and I mean that!
> 
> I hope you like this chapter!
> 
> The picture of my beloved-dear-padawan-tadpole-babies was drawn-slash-photoshopped by me and the post to go along with it, can be found when you click on the picture! (You'll notice the little boy in the middle has not quite made it to their gang yet in the story..but he will! Also holy hell, is it difficult to describe a Togrutan?! What even????)

[ ](http://jackpotgirl.tumblr.com/post/169122497700/my-ocs-for-across-the-universe-aka-reys)

 

**THREE**

 

Right before Rey leads her into the training room, Deslin’s nerves spike in that first-day-of-school way she had forgotten they were still capable of. For the past six years, she had been surrounded by people and made countless new acquaintances. From the string of women who came to work in the establishment, to the males of all different species that became regulars there over the years, Deslin had never much cared about what people thought of her. But it’s different now. This _matters._ She follows Rey on heavy feet through the spacious, oblong gym hall filled with noisy chatter. It is only once Rey grabs a discarded training staff near the door and slams it down loudly against the thin mat on the floor that the other students finally turn and notice her, falling silent.

Now, with five pairs of eyes on her, Deslin decides she hadn’t minded going unnoticed.  She feels incredibly self-conscious, being studied like a specimen on display. She thinks of General Organa, killed on the mission to retrieve her, a hero whom they probably all knew well and admired, and fears that they must hate her already. And even if by some miracle they don’t, there is still the matter of joining a group belatedly that already seems so chummy. It’s terrifying.  

 

“Kids,” Rey calls to order, encouraging Deslin to come closer with a kind smile, “this is Deslin.”

Deslin smiles too, although her mouth feels tight and her pulse is racing, her blood rushing so loud in her ears, she almost misses it when Rey tells her to introduce herself. It’s only after a couple of awkward seconds of silence and staring that she _does_ eventually compute what was asked of her and takes another clumsy step forward.

“Hi, um,” she starts and hates how squeaky her voice sounds all of the sudden. “I grew up on Coruscant, I’m sixteen and...if you like you can call me Desi. That’s what everyone called me back home anyway.”

 

Though Desi feels it not quite an enlightening attempt at an introduction, the others seem to find it sufficient. The faces turned to her nod politely, mumbling a somewhat collective and semi-enthusiastic “Hi, Desi,” in return. The students then go around introducing themselves as well without requiring further prompting, and Desi tries hard to remember every face and name accordingly. She quickly decides the girls, with their vastly different and colorful appearances will be easier to remember than the boys, who look decidedly more similar to each other simply for the fact that they’re all humans.

 

The Togruta girl is called Corra and tells her she is thirteen (and a half). Her bright orange skin is marked by a lighter pigmented pattern on her face, which Desi knows is completely unique on each Togrutan. Corra’s form a white line above a small triangle on each of her cheeks and starting around her eyes, like a mask, a blueish grey covers her entire forehead. Where a human would have eyebrows, a white, wavy section splits through the grey and connects with a slender line that runs down to the tip of her nose, forming a T-shape. Her montrals and head tails are a slightly different shade of blue-grey, striped with a muted, dark violet. Her montrals are topped in the same colour and encircled by a lighter shade of purple. Just above her forehead, in the place where a human’s hairline would be, the same light purple forms a little crown, made up of five rounded spikes and at the height of her temples, she wears two golden clasps around her head tails. They look expensive, like they’re made of actual, _real_ gold and for a second, Deslin is distracted by the sheen. She has always liked shiny things.

 

Corra is beautiful, smoothly commanding attention, exuding warmth with her welcoming smile that is somehow even more noticeable than her colorful skin.

The other girl, Jennica, is a Cathar. Short yellow fur covers all of her, a feline nose sitting above plumb lips and her startlingly bright blue eyes meet Deslin’s with a confidence that seems unusual for her proclaimed fourteen years. When she adds not to call her Jen under any circumstances, the others laugh easily, like it’s an old joke.

 

The boys will be a little harder to keep apart. Dell, who is also fourteen like Jennica, has dark skin around the same shade as Finn’s. She finds their monosyllabic names memorably similar as well, an added bonus. Then there is Temiri, the littlest of the bunch at ten standard years of age, with a pale complexion and brown hair. He also wants her to know that he doesn’t like to be called Temi.

 

“Is little boy name,” he says with a hint of disgust in the thick accent of someone who has just started learning basic.

“I’m Hunter,” the last boy says. He towers over the rest, his long black hair tied into a high knot at the top of his head, more or less exactly like Rey’s. It makes him seem even taller. “I’m sixteen.”

So he is also the oldest. Desi can tell he is trying very hard to grow a beard, though with limited success. It’s little more than fuzzy black down growing on his jawline and above his upper lip. He is handsome all the same. Originally from Ming Po, Deslin guesses by his appearance and makes a plan to ask him later. He glances comfortably across the heads of his fellow trainees and quips: “You can call me whatever you like.”

 

Deslin laughs and feels a little more at ease, even more so, when Hunter winks at her conspiritively like they have just created an inside joke.

“Great,” Rey says and moves about the room, the others following along and after some rearranging all drop to the floor into lotus position. Desi follows a second later, her eyes fixed on Rey.

“Hunter, can you tell Desi our three rules?”

“Sure,” Hunter says, turning his head to address Desi over his shoulder and rattles the following down like a rather boring instruction manual, in a way that seems almost a little intentionally comedic. “Number One: We will always strive for balance. If we are struggling, we talk about it. Number Two: All living things are precious. We treat each other and everything around us with respect and compassion. Number Three: Lightsabers are not toys. We only use them for training and under supervision.” The only thing missing to make Desi laugh out loud at his ever so sly eye-roll would be an added 'blah blah blah' at the end there.

“Thaaank youu,” Rey says, drawing out the vowels, with an eyebrow raised scoldingly because she knows exactly what he is doing–but it's all in good humour. In a silent reply, Hunter bows his head sheepishly and the corners of Rey's mouth twitch upward for a moment before she takes a breath and faces them with regained evenness.

“Now, let’s see how we’re all doing on balance today," she says. "I know I’m not in such great shape.”

 

Desi doesn’t know what she had expected exactly of this training session but what follows is certainly not it. Mistress Rey so freely admitting her own shortcomings strikes Desi as completely un-teacher-like. The meditation then has them first unearth every troubling thought they can think of (which are many, in Desi’ case) and once they have, mull them all over for quite some time. Once she has visualised all of her concerns, Deslin is supposed to let them go, one by one, and make room for the Force. To her great surprise, this actually _works_.

 

Rey encourages them to search for each other’s energy, their _signatures_ within the Force, and sure enough, before long, Desi becomes aware of the different currents around her, mixed waves of various emotions  emanating from six different spots in the room. Rey talks in a calming voice about togetherness, about embracing a new energy in the group and asks them to imagine themselves as part of a big tree that has grown a new root.

And just like that, Deslin can feel the others do as Rey had bid, growing towards her and letting her into their circle. Even with her eyes closed, Desi knows who is who, who is reaching out to which part of her. It already seems ridiculous that she was worried even for a second that she wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

 

Corra is a bright, warm yellow, like the sun. She attaches herself firmly to the darkness in Deslin, casting out the shadows, pushing forgiveness into the place where her guilt sits. Temiri is grey, like fog that settles around her insecurities, lending her his untarnished, boyish confidence. Dell is blue, flowing like water over her frayed nerves and helps her settle down further—enough to handle Jennica’s red hot fire, fanning the spark of bravery that had made Desi even come here in the first place. Hunter is green and, like vines, grows over her fears and turns them into hope. She can feel his grin as he does.

Above them all is Rey, seemingly pure in both light and darkness at once. Deslin reaches out for her, trying to understand, and Rey lets her. There is no fight coming from her. Where the others counter all of Deslin’s negative emotions, Rey accepts them, evening the scales. Desi knows she is doing this for all of them, can feel her reverberating through all the different colours, She is doing it still, now that the others begin to accept what Deslin has to offer them in turn.

 

Corra embraces Deslin’s caution; Temiri quickly finds her motherly side and shrouds himself in it as if it was a blanket; Dell takes some of her determination for himself while Jennica plucks at her humour. Hunter finds her curiosity and makes a move for that at first but then decides to take her longing instead. It almost makes her open her eyes to either marvel at him, question it or tell him off for intruding. But she doesn’t, because all around, remains Rey, sharing her balance. Desi wonders briefly that, if this is what Rey is like unbalanced, how much more amazing it would be to tap into her energy at a complete plateau and is already looking forward to that day. Coming out of this meditation is almost a chore but because she is so relaxed, it hardly stings.

 

After, Desi gets a training stick and Rey has the others teach her all the basic lightsaber forms they have already started learning. Their Jedi master circles around as they do, correcting stances and swings here or there.

 _I like this_ , Desi thinks, absorbing all this new knowledge like a sponge and after two hours, Hunter praises her for picking up Shii-Cho quick enough to move on from it come the next session. This makes her very proud. Yesterday she had not even known that term, let alone that there even were different forms of lightsaber combat. Today, she already had one down.

How cool was that?

 

“You’re doing great, Deslin,” Rey says eventually. “Once you got a handle on Soresu, we’ll go hunting for a Kyber crystal so you can build your lightsaber.”

Deslin has just opened her mouth to answer when the doors at the other side of the room swish open and Finn is there, visibly out of breath as if he had run across the entire base to get to them.

 

“Rey, I need you at Command,” he pants with urgency. “Right now.”

“Okay,” Rey answers nonplussed and turns back to the group. “That’s it for today. Practice your forms. And remember that I can _see_ whether you’re watching the holos from the tutorial server or not.”

 

With this, Rey leaves the kids to their own devices.

 

***

 

Save for Chewbacca, Admiral D’Acy, Poe and C3-PO, the command center is empty. The rest are off in the hall drinking to Leia and have been since the sun had gone down not quite two hours before. Rey isn’t sure what exactly Finn needs her for, but expects that it likely has to do with Rose. Which is why she won’t tell him to _please let her rest_ after the day she’s had. Rose is his priority, which means she is Rey’s too. And so, stealing away to the quiet of her room is not an option for the time being.

 

“You dragging Rey in here won’t make me change my mind on this, Finn,” Poe says sternly upon seeing her. He looks decidedly exasperated, leaning over the big navigational holo-set in the middle of the room, focused on a cluster of stars projected into the air in a bright green. “It’s thirteen hours to Hays Minor in hyperspeed corridors _swimming_ with First Order scouts and a couple o’ dreadnoughts just a jump away for all we know. That whole _planet_ is a military testing facility, for crying out loud!”

“I told you hyperspace corridors are a non-issue with the ship from Coruscant, that rust bucket is untraceable.” Finn argues and Rey understands why she’s there. She is supposed to back Finn’s plan up. _Great_.

“It’s too dangerous,” Poe insists and Rey can’t help but secretly agree. “We just lost Leia. We should be laying low, not risk exposure again.”

 

“This is Rose we’re talking about,” Finn says intently. Rey can tell he’s not going to let this go. “She saved my life, I can’t just sit around and do nothing, she would’ve done the same thing for every last one of us.”

Judging by the look on Poe’s face, he knows Finn won’t give up either. But he can be stubborn, too. Rey moves back to join the admiral and Chewbacca by the switchboard, catching D’Acy’s raised eyebrows and nodding to the unspoken acknowledgement of their shared uncomfortableness of witnessing a fight between friends.

“It’s too great a risk,” Poe persists. “Can’t you just wait a couple of days? A week maybe, so the dust can settle first?”

“We don’t _have_ a couple of days!” Finn’s voice raises to a shout as he starts pacing the floor, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his side. “If Rose doesn’t wake up, she will die, Poe!”

“And I am very sorry about tha-,” Poe begins but Finn cuts in, now at full volume.

“That’s not good enough!” Rey almost flinches from the yelling. “I don’t believe that you can even argue about this!”

 

“Now, now, now. What’s with all this yelling?” A brittle voice, but cutting nonetheless, echoes from the hallway and gives Finn pause. They all watch the little procession which makes its way into the command center, their arrival a momentary distraction from quarrelling.

Maz Kanata enters, in somewhat festive robes and with her arm raised above her head to hold hands with Lando Calrissian. They’re followed by Alsan, Calrissian’s son, and BB8 who is apparently beeping a monologue about the latest X-wing docking-bug to the young pilot.

“Ah, Finn,” Maz says with a nod. “Should have known that was your temper, kiddo.” Finn looks instantly offended but doesn’t get a word in because Maz has already moved on to Poe. “And _you_. I hear from Mister Calrissian here that you managed to push Leia’s vigil for him but couldn’t wait for me? It’s lucky this one is such a charmer,” Maz nods her head up to Calrissian, “or I would have had some words for you, General Dameron.”

“I’m sorry, Maz,” Poe says, a look of sincere regret crossing his features. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“I am sure,” she says. “Now, what _is_ all this fighting about?”

 

Rey doesn’t really listen when Finn explains the situation to the new arrivals, her attention caught by the schematics on the holo-map. A new batch of reconnaissance projections has just updated on the image and there, nestled behind one of the moons of Hays Major sits a ship just a little taller than a dreadnought, but more gracefully designed.

Rey instinctively feels in her dress pocket for the dice, which took back with her from the weeping hill, and takes them out. This is Ben’s ship. She has no idea how she knows but she does. Absent-mindedly, she traces the numbers on the dice with her fingertips and wonders if he is on it now, or if his flagship is just posted there without him. She wonders how he’s doing, wonders if he can’t stop thinking about what happened between them earlier like she does. If he lies awake trying to imagine what she would have said to him had they not been interrupted. Not that Rey knows this either.

 

“If I can hook my scrambler up to that old ship of yours, I can get us planetside unnoticed, First Order scouts or no,” Maz says, rattling Rey harshly out of her thoughts and the dice quickly go back to their secret spot in her dress.

“And what will you do once you’ve arrived there?” Poe asks, forehead wrinkled.

“I’ll go with him,” Rey says, because this was going to happen anyway. Screw it, if she has her own doubts about Finn’s plan, she is loyal to him and she’ll follow where he leads, come what may. “I can protect them.”

“Need I remind you that there is an astronomical bounty on your head and everybody knows your face?” Poe challenges, an edge to his voice that Rey doesn’t like _at all_ for what it calls back to. To the _cost_ of that bounty.

“I’ll make sure no one sees me,” Rey promises and then says: “If they’re going, I’m going” with finality.

“So am I,” says Lando Calrissian, standing up from the chair he has sat down on in the meantime with some effort and like a shot, his son is by his side, offering an arm and a shake of his head.

“Dad,” Alsan says and rolls his eyes just a little. “ _I’ll_ go with them. You’re much more use here.”

Behind Rey, Chewbacca roars his pledge to go and before he is even finished, BB8 rolls around the nav-table and excitedly beeps his own along with it.

 

This is what breaks Poe. He throws his hands up in exacerbation and sighs.

“Even you, BeeBee, you little traitor.” He runs his hands through his hair, revealing the smattering of grey that has made itself apparent since he became a general.  

“Nobody sees you,” he tells Rey, which is neither a question nor an order, it’s a fact she needs to ensure.

“Yes, general,” she replies and he looks at her for another long moment, features tight and unreadable, before turning to face the rest.

“Fine, you got your mission,” he announces. “Be careful! I expect a check-in every hour on the hour. Dismissed.”

 

With a heartfelt “Thank you,” Finn turns on the spot and starts walking, the others following suit after some quick, cordial farewells, leaving only D’Acy, Calrissian and Rey in the calm after the storm for a moment.

“I’m not going to get caught again,” Rey says quietly after some time, eyes trained on the floor, because she feels she can’t go until she has acknowledged her fault in all that happened on Coruscant in front of Poe as well.

“I know,” Poe says, sounding sincere, if a little sad. She takes her leave then and when she is almost out the door, Poe adds: “Stay away from Hays Major.”

 

 _Ah_ , so he has seen the ship on the map as well.

 

Rey is sure his warning comes from a place of friendly concern but it still plays an unpleasant chord inside her. Like there is an assumption that she would seek Ben –no, _Kylo Ren_ – out. It’s a baseless thought of course, because Poe doesn’t have the slightest idea about all the things that bind Rey to Ben, no one on base knows that. Probably, shamefully, maybe the only reason Rey had so readily jumped to the conclusion of there being a veiled jab at her loyalties or a question concerning her entanglements with the enemy, is because in the very dark shadows of her soul, the thought of going to see Ben had occurred to her the _second_ she saw his ship on that map.

 

***

 

“It’s not fun being in charge, huh?” Calrissian rasps from where he sits once Rey has left.

“Not a bit,” Poe agrees. It’s especially hard being in charge of friends, especially such as young and headstrong as Rey and Finn. If either of them have decided to do something, you’d best expect they’re going to move heavens and worlds to do it, no matter how ill-advised it might be. They will do what they think is best.

 

With some fondness, Poe recalls the time early in the year, when Rey had decided that she would fashion the two broken Kyber crystal pieces from her old lightsaber into a saber staff, until that project had eventually stalled to a frustrating halt. She had tinkered with it for days on end, making sparks fly across the workshop in the hangar and cursing like a smuggler. Enough for word to get to Command that Rey was soon potentially going to blow up the base by accident. After some more time of watching this, Poe had offered to help. Surely if one could take a fighter apart and put it back together, making a lightsaber couldn’t be _that_ hard.

 

He’d been wrong. Turns out that no matter how many times you have fixed a ship, building a lightsaber was a completely different sort of mechanics: intricate and poetic. Like making electricity dance, like making spirits and currents alike bend to one’s will–and Poe was desperately at a loss of how to do this. He had learned that a little brute violence and some spit could fix everything. Not in the case of lightsabers, unless you wanted to stab yourself in the face with a laser beam. It was a sad day when Poe Dameron had to declare defeat and tell Rey that he couldn’t help her.

What he _could_ do, however, was use his clearance to unlock a series of old Jedi training holos from the old Republic archives. Along with heaps of fighting form demonstrations, he also unearthed a painstaking tutorial on how to build a lightsaber and that finally did the trick. Rey had been so happy, demonstrating her new staff once she had finally gotten it to sputter to life.

“If you hold and twist here, the two pieces come apart and you have _two_ sabers,” she had said with a big grin, showing off by whirling the two lightsaber hilts around before igniting their twin blue blades and slicing a scrap metal piece on the floor into three even pieces. The blades were slightly unstable, flickering to dangerous brittleness at times but Rey was beaming so full of pride, Poe did not have the heart to point her towards the fact that the staff had it’s technical imperfections still.

 

Now, every time another of Rey’s new Jedi finishes a saber, it’s the same kind of excitement all over again, and Poe can’t help but find it contagious. It’s not just the technical feat that makes them all so proud and it’s not just their pride that makes Poe so happy. It’s the hope it represents. These children, if properly trained, could stand between the galaxy and total ruin. Rey and her students, he is certain, are the one thing that could change the tide of the war. Which is also another reason he is loathe to see Rey go. If anything were to happen to her, who were to continue training these kids? Sure, Poe usually and happily steps in to lend a hand, when Rey is needed off-base for a mission, but while he can teach the kids flying and shooting blasters, he knows _nothing_ about the Force.

 

He hates having to be so cautious. This is not who he had been just a year ago. Poe Dameron had always been daring, headstrong and brave; a doer, a man of action. Now it seems, he has been reduced to worrying over star maps and game plans, like a mother hen clucking over chicks who all have a death wish. He would much rather be on the front lines with them and jump back in head first into peril, but it has to be done; someone has to keep a level mind and take responsibility, make the right calls at the right time. Doesn’t mean he has to love it, but it’s not like it has been his choice to have this war in the first place. Another man had made that decision.

 

“It’s incredible how a boy like Ben Solo could get us all into this mess,” Lando Calrissian says suddenly, as if he has heard Poe’s thoughts spoken aloud.

“Never met the guy when he was still called that,” Poe shrugs. He had only ever heard Leia talk about the boy Ben Solo once was. On the few occasions she did, it was agonising to watch because it was so obvious Leia still loved and missed her son, and did so until her very last breath. Even if Poe doubts the guy deserves it.

“Kylo Ren however,” he says with a frown, “...that doesn’t surprise me.”

“I held him in my arms when he was just a swaddling toddler,” Calrissian exclaims and finally rises from his seat to round the room leisurely and in reminiscence, as if carrying about a small child. “Sweet kid but peculiar. Even looked a little funny. His ears were two sizes too big for his little head. And he was a biter. Figures.”

This makes Poe snort ungracefully and surprisingly with subdued laughter and Calrissian smiles for a second before his face turns grave again.

“Wouldn’t have wanted to be him though,” the old war hero says.

 

“Why?” And this Poe really can’t understand. With parents like Hand and Leia, who wouldn’t want to be their kid? It’s with no small amount of anger that he has always regarded Kylo Ren’s turn from their cause, from his parents. Poe’s mother and father were good people but he would have given the world to have been Leia’s child and had begun to feel a little like he was before her death–and he had _loved_ it. So whatever emotions Kylo Ren elicits in him, pity for his parentage is definitely not one of them.

 

“Well it couldn’a been easy, with a father like Han,” Calrissian answers easily. “The ol’ pirate was always a scoundrel at heart. True, he was a damn good man, damn good pilot, too. But a lousy father, ‘specially to a boy like that. He was never gonna stay in one place and raise a kid. He wanted Ben to become a racer, like he was, always on the move...join that little team of his and compete in the Gauntlet. I used to tease him about that race, said he only created it to watch his son win it one day. But Ben took more after his mother’s father than he did after his own. Didn’t turn out like Han expected.”

 

Now it’s Poe’s turn to sit down. Yes, he had heard Leia talk about how Han was often gone while they were still married but she had never told it so matter-of-factly, as if there had never even been a chance for change there.

“Ben was...sensitive, at times solemn, at others cripplingly shy,” Calrissian goes on explaining. “All the two of ‘em had in common was a knack for playing dice. And then when Ben started to make things go ‘boom’ with his mind, Han lost it. Meanwhile all I ever heard from Leia was that she was busy being a senator. Don’t get me wrong, they were great folks, never meant ill for the kid but they couldn’t handle him. Neither could Skywalker.”

The old man sighs, sitting back down as if his words had knocked his age back into his bones. He looks about the command center and then to Poe, shrugging with the fatalism of seasoned warriors who have seen it all: “And here we are.”

 

“So you’re saying it’s not Kylo Ren’s fault he turned out like that?” Poe asks incredulously because he refuses to see it this way. He knows plenty of good people who had come up worse than Ben Solo and they hadn’t turned into megalomaniac murderers.

“I’m saying I’ve always been a gambler,” Calrissian tells him with a tilt of his head. “And I know bad odds when I see ‘em.”

 

***

 

On board of the shabby cargo cruiser they had stolen on Coruscant, Rey sits by the view port and stares at the stratosphere of Kowak as it is turning into space. In the palm of her hand are Ben’s dice and have her thinking about risks and gambles and odds. Especially those she has to content with going forward.

 

Of course she will not risk trying to make contact with him. Even if Hays Minor is just some two hours away from Hays Major, where Ben’s ship hovers behind a moon. It’s too much of a gamble, too blind a bet, to trust that Ben won’t do something stupid once they meet again. Rey doesn’t believe he will ever truly intend to hurt her anymore but he had managed to often enough anyway. Him not hurting her is not something she can bank on. The odds are decidedly not in her favour.

 

 _No_ , going to see him is a bad idea.

 

Not just because she would be running the risk of capture, this much she admits to herself. It’s also because she isn’t sure what _she_ might do were she by his side in person again. Being with him within their bond always feels like balancing a tightrope, both of them trying to keep upright while the abyss lurks at either edge and when she had put her arms around him on the weeping hill, that abyss had almost swallowed her whole. It’s dangerous to be near to him and if it feels like that just having him in her mind, she is scared to know what it’ll do if she is actually in the same room with him. Too scared to find out. Thus, she has to keep her distance, to keep the bond from rearing its ugly head and evade the enemy scouts by all means. Anything to avoid Ben finding out about her being so close.

 

For that measure, it’s a good thing the jump to Hays Minor takes only a comparatively short thirteen hours. For one, because even with Maz’s scrambler and on board of their purposefully random, non-descript ship, this particular sector of the galaxy is still dangerously alive with First Order presence. But also because their vessel is about five classes below the scrap heeps the resistance usually flies and the shorter the trip, the better. Lest they be picked out simply for their ship falling apart.

 

The _Evangeline_ rattles and shakes, the metal encasing them groans dangerously every now and again, as if the ship might not even sustain the hyperspace travel. Rey has a pretty good idea that originally, it hadn’t. Clearly someone made a bargain on the old lady and then put her through the works for enabling hyperspeed. Sure, it had gotten them from Coruscant to Kowak alright, which was why Rey did not expect imminent combustion, but it was still uncomfortable and shaky–and there wasn’t enough space for all of them. On the three-day track from the galaxy’s capitol to base, Rey and the others had taken turns sleeping on the two available cots, those who did not have their turn making do with the floor. This time, Rey does not feel like sleeping yet, even if she is tired enough to.

 

Instead, she checks her wrist comm one last time before it gets out of reach for communiques from base and re-reads Poe’s confirmation of the training hours with the kids he would take over from her. It isn’t ideal that she is leaving so shortly after introducing a new member to the group, but going by what Deslin had projected in the Force, Rey doesn’t have any realy doubts that she will fit in just fine with the others. And if anything, this surely will be a quick trip, it _has to be_. She’ll be gone a week at worst–depending on how successful Finn’s mission is.

 

He is sitting on the cot, browsing through something on his datapad deep in concentration and is oblivious to everything around him. Be that Chewie arguing over piloting with BB8 who takes his co-pilot position a little too serious, or Maz and Alsan who sit in the middle of the small craft at the communal table, attempting to play sabbac.

“For a pilot’s son you don’t seem to take too well to flying,” Maz muses and puts her cards down.

Rey has to agree. Alsan looks ashen, even with his dark complexion.

“I’m in _shipping_ , for crying out loud,” he sighs and seems almost ashamed. “But this rust bucket has no cushioning whatsoever.”

Chewie joins the conversation by yelling from the cockpit and Rey has to laugh.

“He says he has a _real_ bucket, if you need it,” Maz tells Calrissian’s son who promptly rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I got that,” he says. “That’s a very funny furball.”

“Yes, funny,” Maz agrees lightly. “And the most charming furball you’ve ever seen! You’re my best boy, right Chewie?”

The pirate queen perks up forward to raise her voice at the wookie, who agrees with her in pleased tones and then things settle down again.

 

The smile on Rey’s face sputters out when her eyes catch Finn’s, who has scooted over on his bunk closer to the bacta transport unit Rose sleeps in, looking like a precious but ultimately lifeless porcelain doll. Rey crosses the ship’s belly to sit down next to him and gingerly put a hand on his arm.

“She’ll be alright,” Rey tells him, pushing some of her hope onto Finn’s consciousness but it doesn’t seem to really take. Her friend is still worried sick. “It’s a good plan, Finn.”

“I just hope it all goes over smoothly,” he mutters. And don’t they all?

 

***

 

Ben Solo’s hand pricks under his leather gloves like they do sometimes when he thinks of Rey. It’s a task pushing her image out of his mind, trying to focus instead on the dealings on his bridge. On the officers diligently working at their stations, the two commanders in the corner and their talk of the moon below, making plans to visit one or the other establishment on the station down there as soon as their shift ends and the navigators loading the new ground scans of said moon onto the holomap behind him.

 

Ben has recently decreed that the weapons testing on Hays Major and Minor should be moved from the planets to their moons. They have the technology to ensure atmospheric conditions on the trabants perfected now and so it makes no further sense to lay waste to two perfectly healthy planets for the necessary but costly tests. If everything runs smoothly, this first moon will have an artificial atmosphere by the end of the day, the other two moons following within the week and then the First Order can pull their military off planetside and move up. It feels good to be doing something tangible like this. Most of what his governing the galaxy consists of, feels more like shouting into the void than anything else. Mostly though, truthfully, he is shouting at Hux, who gladly has retired to his chambers for lunch for now.

 

The prickly ginger parvenu doesn’t take meals with the rest of the crew, probably because it would “undermine his status”. As if he had any real status to speak of, anything beyond his military rank, anyway. Fine, Ben doesn’t eat with the crew either but that’s for other reasons. _Non-pretentious_ reasons. It’s mainly because he doesn’t like when people watch him chewing. Plus, he doesn’t even eat for pleasure, like people who have meals in company usually do, or like Hux does, plundering every planet they pass by for their most exquisite and expensive cuisine and delicacies. Ben just eats for fuel and mostly finds no greater satisfaction in any of it. The only thing he had ever really liked to eat where his mother’s pancakes but Leia had never made them often, mostly just for his birthday or when school got really, _really_ bad.

 

The sudden, unbidden memory of his mother flipping pancakes with a roaring laugh, is a sharp pain in Ben’s heart that makes his face and composure quiver out of control for a brief moment. The loss of her is still raw, and with no signs of abating. He closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose, remembers Rey’s hands around him, her heartbeat against his cheek and the smell of his mother’s dress on her, so comforting and excruciating at the same time. He wishes he could go back to being Kylo Ren again just for a second, just to not _feel_ the grief so intimately. But that persona has flitted away along with the mask he had destroyed a year ago. It was funny how quickly it had crumbled, like the years dedicated to inhabiting the new name and purpose Snoke had given him, had dissolved into air the moment Rey had said his true name in that elevator.

 

“Ben,” she had said and called him nothing else ever since. And if he was Ben to her, he was Ben to himself. He doesn’t care if this would seem weak to people (if anybody knew, which no one does), doesn’t care that the ghost of Snoke snickers in the back of his mind, the scars of his old master’s punishments stinging in mockery of his foolishness, of his father’s big heart still alive in his chest. He simply doesn’t care. Ben Solo has to answer to no one anymore.

Except maybe to Rey. But she has made herself scarce since the last time they saw each other.

 

Ben tries for a moment to tug at the bond, to see if he can coax the Force into bringing her to him but the air stays still and Rey remains just a feeling beyond reach. At any given moment, he feels tethered to her, like somewhere out of his body there is a string binding him to her and it doesn’t feel like it will ever rip.

 

All his efforts in the last year toward severing their connection have not yielded any results and in hindsight it seems idiotic that he has even tried. He can see clearly now that even if he had told himself he wanted nothing more than to be rid of her, he had lacked the proper conviction from the first day. He had channeled the pain and hatred caused by her abandonment into his attempts, had declared to himself that the only way to survive was to kill her but that was all a sham. A lie he told himself over and over again, desperate to believe it. The truth of it is that really all his grief and anger is just love with nowhere to go. The same now as it has always been: Love that people don’t have use for. That is too difficult, too much to ask to be reciprocated.  

Then, the last time he saw her, on the day of his mother’s funeral (he doesn’t know how he is sure that’s what it was, but he had known it intimately at once when he saw Rey), every pretense of hating her had fallen away.

 

With her hands buried in his hair and her lithe body pressed against him, he had finally found his place in the galaxy. Where nothing had fit before, or _he_ hadn’t fit into anything, in Rey’s arms, in Rey’s _eyes_ , he was. Not anything in particular, he just _was_. Without anguish or struggle or reservations, just in that complete balance he hadn’t truly known before, even after years of training under two masters. When Rey had sifted through his head for what his mother’s death really meant to him, he had let her pass, had given her everything freely and is prepared to do so until the day of his death.

 

If only she would come back to take it. If only she could see that he is a good man, that everything he does is because he believes it is _right_. That she had denied him because of the misconception of a hunger for power that Ben doesn’t even possess. That she is fleeing from the shadow of an emperor, Ben will never be, nor has he ever intended to become. Yes, his means are brute sometimes but for now, the First Order _is_ a brute organization. And yes, he had over-reacted and lashed out against her and the Resistance, on occasion, but never without reason. Plus, he had always seen his errors in hindsight and had worked on it. He barely lost control anymore and when he did, it was almost always Hux’ fault.

 

 _Once this is done_ , he thinks, glancing down the view port onto the stony moon’s surface, _I will find you_. And then he’ll make her see that they belong together, that they can still join together. Ben will do whatever it takes, even sit down with the Resistance and _compromise_ , maybe even allow for some policy changes. He won’t forgo his convictions about how the galaxy should be run, but surely Rey must realize that he is not the monster megalomaniac that the Resistance likes to style him as. That he is just a man trying to do the right thing. If he opens up communication channels with the rebels. Surely that will give her pause.

 _When I find you, I’ll make you understand_ , he thinks and flexes his fist, remembering her fingertips on his.

 

***

 

“I was here before on a supply run,” Alsan says quietly into the quiet of the night on Hays Minor once they have left the ship hidden away in an abandoned quarry and have climbed high enough for the outskirts of Sebris Gamma to come into view. “Didn’t look half as bad and it was already depressing then.”

 

The city in the darkness itself looks like the site of a civil war. There are fires burning in several houses and in the far distance, Finn can make out the flares of canon blasts and follow bright trails of bombs to detonate beyond the horizon with a subdued thud. Even though Finn is aware that the First Order is just _testing_ weapons here, the fear creeping up in him is very real. Illuminating the way down the steep hill with a torchlight, he wonders how Rose and Paige had survived growing up here and managed to come out as the brave women they had turned out to be. Paige so brave she had saved them all by sacrificing herself and Rose so brave she had saved _him_ on Crait with no regard for her own life. Now, if only coming to this wretched, desolate planet would ensure that he could save her in return.

 

Judging by his tone, Chewie who staggers through the dark behind him, complains about something, and Maz pats the wookie’s arm in sympathy.

“Ah yes, it _does_ reek,” she says and Finn has to agree.

The air is thick with the smell of sulfur and charred earth, getting stronger the closer they climb down to the city. How anyone can live here, as well as the fact that there is still some green nestled between the cracks of the rocky, mostly barren terrain here and there, is beyond comprehension.

 

Finn wonders how they are going to move Rose in her portable care unit all the way across this hill, wonders if he wants to expose her to this stink at all, but he ponders just giving Rey the all clear to fly to them once the coast is clear. Maybe that is the best way to go forward. So far, there had been no signs of detection and the risk should be low enough to try. And safer for Rose all the more.

 

“So Finn, how much further is it?” Alsan asks him when they are almost at the foot of the hill, arriving in the shadow of a small village outside of the city.

“It should be right around the corner,” Finn answers and checks the map on his wrist comm. Five minutes by foot and they should come up on Rose’s parents house.

After walking with careful, measured steps, making sure to stay covered by walls and rooftops as much as possible, his comm gives a ping and they’re standing in front of a little, two-story bungalow half-carved into the rocks of the hill with a green door that says “TICO” in Aurebesh.

“That’s it,” Finn whispers, takes a deep breath and goes to ring the bell.

At first, nothing happens and so Finn rings again a second time and then a third.

 

Then suddenly, the door is ripped open and before him stands a tiny, grey-haired, plumb woman, who looks so much like Rose that it’s startling and points a blaster almost as big as her at Finn’s face.

 

“What do you want?” She bellows and Finn hurries to rip his hands over his head, startled into heart palpitations.

“Mrs. Tico, I’m Finn,” he says quickly. “I’m a friend of Rose’s, we’re with the Resistance. We’re here because Rose needs your help.”

When Mrs. Tico finally puts the blaster down, Finn is glad that he has such good control of his bladder after his one year being part of the Resistance and getting his fair share of unexpected moments of terror like this. Otherwise, he would have just peed his pants in front of Rose’s mom.

 

***

 

Deslin has been intently studying training holos from a carry-projector for the better part of the morning, the others sparring with sticks on the grass behind her, when a gleam of gold catches her eye. By a lone tree a little ways away stands a shiny droid, unmoving and with his back to her. She goes on work through a combination of Soresu steps and swings for a while, keeping her eye out for the droid who remains motionless the entire time. Eventually, this intrigues her enough to put her own training stick down, thumb out the holo and go forth to investigate.

 

Even in her approach, the robot gives no sign of acknowledging her and so, after some deliberation, she steps up to him and gives his metal shell a tentative knock. Like a whip, the droid suddenly staggers and mechanically snaps around, quick enough to startle her.

 

“Oh, I thought you were broken,” she says apologetically.

“Young Miss Deslin,” the droid says and she wonders how he already knows her because she doesn’t recall meeting _him_ yet. “I suppose in human terms you would not be mistaken.”

Then she does remember him, the way he stood close to Rey and Lando Calrissian on the weeping hill at the commemoration.

“Because of the Princess?” Desi asks and can’t help a flicker of guilt still springing up in her chest.

“Yes, I am… well, I _was_ her personal protocol droid,” he answers her in a tinny voice that somehow sounds incredibly forlorn, and the protocol part explains how he knows her–knowing people is his job. Or _was_? “It appears I am no longer of use to anyone with her gone. They are all gone now. Even R2.”

“R2?” Deslin takes a step toward him, feeling his artificial mind’s turmoiled currents as if she was inside his electric head.

“He was a dear friend,” the droid replies. “He has been with me since long before you were born. I never thought I would miss his incessant beeping quite as much.”

“I’m sorry,” Deslin mutters and takes his cold, golden hand into hers, because it’s the only thing she can think of to make it better.

“Thank you,” he says and turns his head again to stare into the distance. “Forgive me. I am C3PO. I do not think we have been properly introduced yet. I have been a little out of sorts.”

“That’s alright,” Deslin smiles. “It’s nice to meet you.”

They stand there together, hands of flesh and metal joined, for a long while.

 

***

 

“Did she suffer?” Mrs. Tico asks in the relative quiet of her kitchen while her husband is helping Rey get Rose out of the bacta tank and onto their living room table. “My Paige?”

Finn holds the old woman’s gaze intently and then takes her hand for consolation: “It was quick. She died a hero.”

In the time it took for Rey to pilot the ship into the Tico’s small private port, Finn had learned that the news of their eldest daughters death had only reached the Tico’s some two months ago. “Without her, we never would have escaped D’Qar.”

Rose’s mother nods and with her free hand wipes her wet eyes with her shabby apron, the other squeezes Finn’s tightly.

“Thank you for bringing Rose here,” she says and then they go back to the living room to join the others.

 

It’s a cozy, nice house, a little like fox holes Finn has discovered on Kowak and the lovely, homey atmosphere inside seems carnally at odds with the forbidding circumstances outside. The place is cluttered with aged decorations and corny memorabilia and all over the walls are old fashioned pictures. On one of them are Rose’s parents in younger years in front of what looks to be the entrance to a mine, her mother holding a toddler, who must be Rose, and her father with a hand on her sister’s shoulder, black coal dust on his face. They look so much older now. Mrs. Tico, even with her body rounded by age, still looks malnourished, much like her husband who is tall and lithe, with deep wrinkles and a greying beard underneath his bottom lip, both their skin so pale it looks almost grey. There are more pictures, spanning years, showing the two small girls growing up, smiling brightly on every last one. Finn’s eyes land once again on Rose as she sleeps and he hopes beyond hope, that she will wake up to smile like that once more.

“She’s grown up so much,” says her mother as she smoothes Rose’s hair out of her forehead tenderly and there is a sadness in her voice deep as an ocean.

 

Finn watches in silence as Maz comes to help to set up the med-pack they brought and then beckons him closer to ready the transfusion device. Finn had the doctors on base instruct him on the procedure, which is pretty straight-forward: hook up both Rose and her father, who has immediately offered to be the donor to the device and wait until his blood has supplied his daughter’s with what she needs to finally recover. As her Dad settles into a god-awful mustard-yellow plush-chair that looks positively ancient, he gives Finn a curt nod to proceed and moments later, the transfuser whirs to live, clicking and pumping and then there is not much left to do but watch it fulfil its purpose.

 

The group of them take every available seat in the small room, Rey on the couch next to Maz and Alsan, Chewbacca cramped into another plush chair that is decidedly too small for his massive limbs and Finn sits down next to Rose’s mother at the dining table, her withered fingers reaching for his. And then, they wait.

 

***

 

“Roll-Call!” General Dameron’s voice splits the late afternoon quiet on a meadow near the base where Desi and the rest have been meditating for quite some time, all of them perking up simultaneously when rattled out of their concentration.

“I’m taking over your blaster training today since Rey is gone on a mission,” Poe continues and takes a datapad out of his jacket. “Let’s see who’s here, alright? Dell Arden.” Dell steps dutifully ahead, answering his name with a military “Yes, sir.” The others do the same as they are called, lining up in front of the general.

“Hunter Barizzan. Jennica Namaroe. Deslin Nok Gerso.”

When her name is called, Deslin hurries to affirm and walk to stand next to Jennica, their shoulders touching.

“Temiri Blaag. Corra Tespin,” Poe finishes. “Great, we’re all here. Let’s start.”

 

Poe has them set up targets on tree-stumps and soon a young woman joins them, who introduces herself as Kaydel and shows Deslin how to operate a blaster in the first place, while the others are already shooting at old cans and pine cones. Desi can’t say she enjoys this too much. Firstly, the blaster bolts bring up nasty memories of her narrow escape from Coruscant and secondly, she just can’t seem to get the right handle on the weapon. In the beginning, she keeps forgetting to turn the safety off and then in turn forgets to put it back on, causing Kaydel to nervously duck away from her more than once when she whirls the gun around to complain about not hitting anything.

Desi can feel Jennica’s taxing look on her and some irritation emanating from her Force signature. She is about to comment on this when Jennica softens and pushes a wave of calm over to her with a wink.

“It took me ages to figure this out,” she calls over to Desi from where she stands with Hunter, as if she is trying to explain that her negative feelings weren’t so much directed at Deslin as at the act of shooting, which is good to know.

So Desi tries again, and again and again, until she finally graces the tree stump she is aiming at–that’s close enough for the moment.

 

“What on earth are you teaching these children, kid?” A man yells from a little ways away and Deslin whips around to watch Lando Calrissian emerge from the shrubbery, his long beige cape getting caught by twigs and branches. “You don’t shoot a blaster like that!”

“Excuse me?” Poe asks then, a little quipped.

“Did a stormtrooper teach you how to shoot or what?” Lando asks, strolling over to them casually, as if he has all the time in the world and is comfortable using it for a grand entrance. “Listen kids, let old man Lando show you how it’s done!”

 

The older man grabs Poe’s blaster with a charming wink and punches the power out, showing it around to everyone to see that it’s switched off and then takes aim at the empty can Dell has been missing for the last seven tries. Lando pulls the trigger of the blaster silently, three times and then motions for Dell to do the same.

“Don’t focus on the gun, focus on your target,” he tells the boy. “And when you shoot, _press_ the trigger, don’t pull it. Wait until the shot has fired and keep your eyes on the target, don’t let go until then. Go on, try it.”

 

“How’s that supposed to help?” Poe asks, with an edge of spite not so much evident in his casual tone but in the solid added presence within his emotions.

Lando puts his blaster down to shush Poe calmly, with a finger from his free hand on his lip, leaning down to Dell once he has dry-fired three times. “Now, turn it back on and remember to press, not pull.”

Sure enough, Dell hits the can this time around and mutters a “Woah”, face turned to Lando in awe.

“That’s a coincidence,” Poe says.

“Let’s see you do it, flyboy.” Kaydel says beside Deslin, her eyebrow quirked in challenge. “Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“I like that one, she’s got spunk,” Lando says, winking at Poe who grumbles unflatteringly and Desi can’t help but join in with Kaydel chuckling beside her. Poe reminds her of a little tusk cat cub, stubbornly trying to pick a fight with an elder and come out on top.

“Fine,” the general declares, first dry-fires three times and then aims at Deslin’s latest pine cone. He hits the tree behind it instead.

“He did that on purpose,” Jennica says, quick as the shot itself. “I could feel it!”

Poe’s head snaps to her, his face the embodiment of betrayal. “You guys are no fun at all! Have you no loyalty?”

 

“Nah,” Corra breaks out into a bubbly laugh and the air sings with amusement felt by all of them. Deslin grins as she watches Poe repeat the routine, thumb his blaster back on, fire and obliterate the cone from the stump. Calrissian snickers and Kaydel walks over to General Dameron to buff him on the shoulder slyly.

 

“Not bad,” she says and then adds in a lower voice, so low that only Calrissian, Desi and Hunter are close enough to hear: “Maybe the old man can tell you some other tricks.”

WIth that she winks and Lando bellows a laugh. Desi catches Hunter’s eye and judging by his mischievous grin, he has picked up the innuendo as well. She laughs with him, watching Poe take a minute to gather his composure again and try with some effort to get their lesson back on track. Deslin has a wonderful time learning to shoot a blaster after all, so as far as standing in for Rey as a teacher goes, the general is definitely a fun substitute.

 

***

 

Rey has no idea how long they have sat in the Ticos’ living room, only that the pitch dark night has eventually made way for a cold blue morning and that the tension that started rising hours ago once Finn shut off the transfusion device is well on its way to mounting to an eruption. Everyone, including Finn, had expected Rose to just pop up from her coma as soon as her father’s blood had entered her system, but nothing has happened. Yes, the small bio-meter she was hooked up to via a clasp around her pointer finger was showing steady signs of improvement, but other than that, everything was unchangingly grim-looking. Frustration is too weak a word to describe the emotion hanging over them like a cloud. Finn paces, Maz brews calming tea after calming tea that do no one but Alsan any good. The young pilot fell asleep on the couch a while ago and Rey envies him for that to the ends of the universe. But then again, sleeping is unthinkable with Rose still unconscious.

 

Eventually, Rey takes Maz up on her offer of sitting on the upstairs loggia for a while and keep lookout for any possible threat of detection in the area. They’ve sat in silence for a long time until Maz says: “She is a brave one, this Rose. Have you ever met her… _before_?”

“No,” Rey answers. “The first time I saw her, she was already like that. Finn was so worried. Still is.”

“But he has never lost hope,” the small sentient says, looking across the rooftops of the small village to the smoke coming from the big grey city in the distance.

Slowly but surely, Rey notices the stink from the night before returning. It seems the short nightly reprieve for the weapons testing on Hays Minor is over. She is about to ask Maz something about hope, expecting some wisdom and guidance but then Finn bursts onto the balcony, terror and sweat drenching his face.

“She woke up and then she passed out again,” he half-yells, out of breath and shaky. “And now, she’s getting _worse_!”

 

In a flash, Rey is on her feet and runs after Finn, following him back into the house with Maz behind them quicker than any being her age should be. Alsan is bent over Rose’s body, wiping moisture from her forehead while her parents are standing by the dining table, holding onto each other, staring at horror on the beeping monitor that BB8 has connected to and communicates with furiously.

“BB8 says she has gone into shock,” Rey translates.

“But why?” Finn shireks. “This was supposed to work, she was getting better, she was _awake_!”

“She was getting too well too fast,” Rey keeps on translating BB8s frantic argument with the machine. “It overwhelmed her system.”

“There has to be something we can do,” Finn rushes forward, shoving Alsan aside and touches Rose’s face and body helplessly, like he has no idea where to start. “Anything! Rey can’t you...I dunno, can you...use the Force?”

 

This suggestions hits her like a ton of bricks. Can she _what now_?

 

She opens her mouth to answer but doesn’t have one and looks like a fish on land, turning her head to Maz because usually she has all the answers in these matters, does she not? Is it possible? Can the Force help this in any way?

“Force-healing? It’s not unheard of,” Maz says, grabbing Rey by the hand and pulling her toward Rose. “It won’t hurt to try.” A small orange hand puts Rey’s on Rose’s chest and flats it on there only for Rey to then withdraw it.

“What am I supposed to do?” Rey asks, overwhelmed with the sudden responsibility, the sudden very real possibility of failure creeping up on her like twisty, angry shadows. She can’t have another death on her conscience.

“Reach out for her,” Maz tells her briskly. “Help her _fight_.”

 

So Rey takes a deep breath and does as she is told, what choice is there anyway? She closes her eyes and fights to regain some balance, win some smidge of calm back and feels around the Force, reaching out for Rose with her feelings and fingers alike, as if Rey could pull her light to the top from her chest and save her like that.

 

And then Rey senses her, this brave woman she has never talked to before in her life and suddenly, she knows her in and out. Knows her hopes and dreams, her grief and her love and her easy laugh and plucky optimism and a tear rolls down Rey’s eye because hers might easily be the purest, warmest energy Rey has ever tapped into. It feels like folding herself into a blanket, like safety and affection and this woman _can’t die_. Can’t cease to exist. Rey will not allow it to happen.

So she digs in further, slithers through Rose’s bones, through every artery, boosting her light with her own and dragging it up to the surface. She feels the fight there, feels how the spirit inside the shell is yearning to hold it together, to rise above the darkness that keeps threatening to overtake it and Rey goes to war.

 

Every vein, every muscle, every molecule that threatens to give out, Rey latches onto, patches back together, sweeping across the battlefield where Rose is fighting death as if Rey were a vengeful dragon, spewing fire on the shadows that threaten to win and drag Rose down into oblivion with them. Rey will be damned if she lets that happen.

 _Breathe_ , Rey thinks when she can feel Rose become aware of her presence, of her trying to help. _Breathe, Rose. Fight!_

And she does, that unbelievable, fierce woman. She fights until her body comes back together, solidifies, lights up with her strength and becomes whole again and somehow, miraculously, unfathomably, she has done it!

Rose has. And Rey. Together.

 

Rey draws back her hand and her eyes fly open just when Rose jerks up, wide awake and out of breath.

“Woah,” Rose exclaims on a shaky breath and for a second there is silence.

 

Then the tension snaps as Finn says her name and Rose turns to him while the rest of them let out a collective, bone-deep sigh of relief. Rey watches in awe as Rose clasps her hands around Finn’s tears-streaked cheeks and grins at him like a million stars.

 

“Finn, you’re okay,” Rose says and then pauses for a moment to process what has happened. “Where...where am I?”

Her confusion is instantly swept aside when her parents dive toward her, both of them crying with alleviation and Rose’s energy rises to a supernova, blasting over Rey like a shock wave.

“Mom, Dad!” she gasps and throws her arms around her mother and father in pure, undiluted joy.

 

Rey is so happy for her, she barely notices how her eyes prick and her heart aches with envy at the reunion she sees unfold before her. Of a beloved child with their beloved parents. Something Rey will never have. But that doesn’t matter now, all that matters is that Rose is alright. Towering above the huddle of Ticos is Finn and she catches his eye, his face split with gratefulness and a relief so profound, Rey can feel it in her bones.

“Thank you,” he mouths silently and Rey can’t help but grin back at him.

She still can’t really believe that it really worked. That she can _heal_ people.

 

The Force knows _that_ should come in handy one of these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you feel so inclined.
> 
> And if you like this story, please share it with your friends, reblog a post about it (for example this one: http://jackpotgirl.tumblr.com/post/169242756225/across-the-universe-chapter-three) or rec it, if you like. I am struggling to get this one gather the traction 'In My Bloodstream' had and I really think I've bettered myself since IMB came out and this plot is so very dear to me, that I would just really, really appreciate every support so whole-heartedly, you honestly have no idea :D
> 
> Work is a lot this week (like crazy A LOT) but I will try to crank the next one out as fast as I can, promise!  
> I love you guys! Thank you!


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so late. I will die tomorrow. But I couldn't put this update off any longer.  
> Due to that, this is also not beta'd and only edited in the literal dead of night.
> 
> There will be mistakes! But I hope you forgive me. If you re-read his one day, I will probably have gone over this again..maybe I'll put some more works on it tomorrow, but for now...have this.
> 
> I hope you like it despite my sleep-deprived ramblings and inevitable mistakes!

CHAPTER FOUR

 

“I can’t believe I missed all that,” Rose says, propped up against the headboard of the single bed in her childhood room which she has moved into as soon as she felt comfortable taking a couple of steps on her weak feet. “ _General_ Dameron? And Leia…”

 

Finn nods, awkwardly smoothing out the pillow he had grabbed from her bed where he sits on a chair next to her. It had taken the better part of the afternoon getting her back up to speed on what she had missed, especially with her mother interrupting all the time to bring them freshly baked bread rolls and richly fragrant tea. But he had been glad for the time and happy to be alone with her too. Hours ago, the others had retired to their makeshift rooms and nooks in the small house, all tired from the long days leading up to this one. In all honesty, Finn is exhausted as well and his summary of the previous year had become somewhat hazy at the end, his sentences missing basic grammar here and there, starting out at one point and ending at another, unrelated one, but Rose is awake enough for the both of them. Figures, since she had been sleeping for twelve standard months.

“Were you aware of anything while you were... _out_?” Finn asks, out of curiosity and picks at the fabric of the pillowcase with two fingers at a time.

“No. The last thing I remember is crashing on Crait. And that I-” She stops talking and Finn’s eyes dart up. She is looking at him and, like a shot, he knows what else she remembers.

“That you kissed me,” he says and suddenly his cheeks are on fire. “Took me by surprise.”

“Me too,” she breathes and the silence that follows is the heart of the matter, the reason why Finn has been nervous since they’d been left alone together. It’s like he has been waiting for this moment ever since _it_ happened, only that he hadn’t anticipated the wait be quite as long as it turned out. Accordingly, the build-up of tension feels unbearable now and he is ill-equipped at best to deal with it.

 

She had kissed him. And no one had ever done that before her. It isn’t like Finn is a stranger to romance, he did grow up around girls and he had watched the occasional holo-show where dainty, pale women were kissing tall, imposing men in reckless abandon but the First Order academy was no place to discover the opposite sex in that way, in _any_ way that was tangible. For all intents and purposes, Rose was the only girl Finn had ever done anything special with. Or rather, that had done anything special with him, because really, that kiss on Crait had _happened_ to him more than anything else. For some reason this bothers him. He feels inadequate in retrospect and it’s not the nicest sensation.

 

“I mean…what I’m trying to say,” he starts and to his great shame can’t look her in the eye anymore for the rest of his stammered sentence. “If you ever...wanted to do that again, I’d, um, I’d be better at it now.” He says and risks a glance at her, finding her face pink and flushing. “I think,” he adds sheepishly.

He doesn’t know what he is expecting, or why he is even saying anything at all. In the end, it'd only been a kiss and it might not have meant anything to her at all. Probably it totally didn’t and he is very likely a fool to assume that it did. Most certainly, it was just a spur of the moment kind of thing, a gesture of friendship...of  amicable camaraderie and he opens his mouth to tell her he knows as much, when Rose dips forward and her face lands on his with some force. She kisses him. She is kissing him again!

 

Finn scrambles for the appropriate reaction in the first couple moments of shock. Even if his words had been an invitation, he had not really expected her to follow it so willingly and it takes a firm grip on his roaring mind to remember his training. To recall the brief, humiliating moments under the shelter of the blanket in his bunk on the Resistance base. There, he had kissed the back of his hand, half trying to practice and half trying to remember how Rose’s lips had felt on his. So finally, he closes his eyes, as one should, he had learned, and returns the pressure of her lips. He leans in, kissing her back properly, kissing anybody properly for the first time in his life. When they break apart after a while, and she touches her forehead against his, he is almost delirious. He has forgotten to breathe for a moment there. So that’s what _that’s_ like.

 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t-,” he mutters quietly, opens his eyes and goes cross-eyed in an attempt to look at her but hers are still shut.

“Shh,” she hums. “Enough talk.”

 

And kisses him again, soft and tender, like a feather. He could get used to this.

 

***

 

The happiness wafting through the Tico household after Rose woke up had carried Rey on a cloud into the guest room she shares with Maz and got her drifting to sleep easily, even with the midday sun still high up in the sky. It’s a gift to be falling asleep after such a long time on her feet, fretting and worrying about Rose and Finn and all the others.

 

For the first time since Leia died, the nightmares stay away. Instead she walks across clouds on light feet, feeling the Force flicker around her, soaring above her body as she becomes one with the wind. It carries her across the barren lands of Hays Minor, then lifts her up into the clouds, warms her, solidifies her into mist, then clouds, then droplets and she rains down onto the earth and seeps into the ground. There is life everywhere, and death. Decay and rebirth, peace and violence and, scattered like little spots around the planet, Rey can sense others like her. Instinctively, in her dreaming, she seeks them out, turns them over like rocks and finds those strong with the Force. They appear to her solid and real, as if she could really touch them. Each of her kids in training, she has found like this, scattered across the systems, with their Force signatures so strong and bright, they bridged the distance to wherever Rey was with no issues. On this planet, no signature quite as strong had revealed itself yet.

 

But suddenly, there is Temiri, turning and running away from something. She can only see the back of his head...and is he shorter? She calls his name but he won’t turn around, he just keeps running, running until he hides somewhere she can’t see and then the crying starts. With the crying, comes the dread and Rey strains in her sleep not to let it in; she has just felt so peaceful, why must there be fear? Why must her chest constrict in panic when she was just so happy? Temiri is terrified. What happened? She wants to reach out, like she had when she had first found him in the Force on Canto Bight, sleeping on the floor in a stable like an animal, cold and alone, but he doesn’t reach back. Instead, there’s just his dim purple light, sputtering in the darkness.

 

_Wait._

 

Purple? Temiri’s traces in the Force had never been purple. He is grey, like an early, dewy morning on a foggy meadow. Rey investigates, pushes further into the fear and the non-place where she can just sense energy and wills the boy into focus, the purple one. This isn’t Temiri. But he looks like him, if slightly younger. And he’s afraid. He’s all alone. There, on Hays Minor, close to her, and strong with the Force. Untrained, still little, but with a pronounced signature nonetheless.

 

 _Where are you?_ Rey calls to him but he just scurries away, shielding himself from her intrusion. Rey pushes further just a bit, just enough to see where he is. Where she can find him. She pushes so far, she wakes up from the effort. But when she opens her eyes to a completely darkened room, she almost knows where to find him.

 

Blindly, Rey finds her way through the room without her eyes, slips back into her pants and shirt and gathers her bag, staff, cowl and cape from where she had set them down before going to sleep. Slowly, her vision adjusts to the sparse moonlight coming through the drawn blinds, which makes putting on her clothes significantly easier. She glances over at Maz, trying not to be too loud and rouse her. She would rather not explain where she is going. Doesn’t want to be questioned on her plan. Mostly because she doesn’t have one.

All she knows is that there is a child nearby who has no one and who needs her help. It takes nothing more than that to propel her into action. As quiet as she can, she collects her shoes from the door and tries to sit back down on the bed quiet enough not to have the bed creak too much.

 

Crouched and bent over her boots, at first she thinks the rush of blood running through her ear comes from hanging her head down too long. It isn’t until she sits back up that she sees Ben stand before her with a start, his dark clothes making him blend into the shadows of the room, like he is part of the darkness. Reflexively, she jumps to her feet, not quite into a fighting stance but still ready to attack at a moment’s notice. It’s an instinct. Rationally, she is not scared of him but she has just woken up and he had surprised her. She relaxes after a moment, only for her body to go rigid again when he opens his mouth.

 

“You’re close,” he mutters softly and his voice is raw, low and frayed around the edges, as if he, too, had just woken up. “I can feel...where are you?”

“I’m not telling you,” she whispers, fighting whatever quiet voice in the back of her head that is urging her to do exactly that, careful to keep her voice low. She can’t have Maz wake up now to witness her hiss to the empty room.

“The air is bad, I smell it,” Ben muses, taking a step toward her, his eyes searching hers for answers she keeps closely guarded by the grace of her self-control.

“Don’t do this,” she breathes and takes a step back, as far back as possible until the back of her legs hit her bed. “Don’t try to find me.”

“I have to, Rey,” he says intendedly, his gaze set my firmly on hers. “Stop running away.”

 

Luckily, before she can do anything stupid, like tell him to just come to her then, as quickly as he appeared, Ben dissolves into nothingness and Maz stirs. Rey’s heart beats fast, immediately flushing hot from fear that little alien _knows._

 

“There’s such darkness around you these days, child,” Maz yawns as she sits up groggily, “Nobody can sleep through all that tension.”

Her wrinkled fingers reach for the giant glasses on the bedside table and she puts them on to tax the place where Ben had stood just moments before, her beady eyes magnified to piercing orbs. Is it possible Maz had felt his presence, like Luke and Deslin had?

 

“In miserable times it’s best to keep a light heart,” she continues, seemingly unfazed and giving no indication of having noticed anything amiss.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how anymore,” Rey answers quickly, relieved that there was no more note made of dark shadows swirling around her in the night.

“Remember why we fight,” Maz says, her tone grandmotherly and reassuring. “We do it all for _them_.” She nods to the door, to where Finn and Rose and Chewbacca sleep scattered around the house. “For the people we love.”

The word _love_ lingers on in the air and the darkness whispers to her again, Love has eluded Rey for most of her life, even when she was always so desperately looking for it. Now that she has so much of it, from her friends and her students and the entire Resistance, who all look to her, love should mean happiness. But the love that pulls at her, the love that sticks to the precipice of her heart stubborn like tar, is the one that threatens to tear her apart.

“What if the people we love _are_ the people we fight?” Rey asks and it’s not rhetorical.

“Same difference.” Maz leans forward to take Rey’s Hand where she stands, her orange skin paled to yellow in the fleeting light. “You will never conquer a furious heart with more fury. Only hope can do that.” She locks Rey in place with a knowing look which makes her nervous. “And forgiveness.”

 

Rey half wants to wiggle out of the surprisingly iron grip the small creature has on her, especially when Maz looks up and down at her quizzically, undoubtedly now making note of her clothes and gear in place to leave. “Where are you going?”

“There’s another child,” Rey replies immediately, worried that this truth might sound like a lie. “In the city. Strong with the Force and all alone. I’m going to get him.”

After a long moment, Maz nods and squeezes her hand emphatically. “You do what you have to do,” she says. “Just don’t let tragedy break you, child. Sometimes things can’t be saved, that’s the way of the universe, but they’re all worth a trying.”

“I will,” Rey says and wonders who Maz is thinking of.

 

***

 

General Armitage Hux is never anything but prepared. Going into the governance summit with his most trusted lieutenants, he has all the talking points of the day neatly organized on his data pad and had fed each statistic and analysis, each proposition and scheme, into the small projector in the middle of the table, flipping through the various images with ease while they discuss. Given that ‘discuss’ is a broad term not to be taken too literally. Their meetings are rightfully guided and any decisions made planned ahead of time, by him of course. The others serve as a sounding board of sorts, knowing full well that the sounds required of them are variations on the theme of “Yes, sir”. Not that they would really disagree with anything he proposes. Hux is sitting amongst his peers, people who understand him. People who understand how the First Order, how the galaxy should be structured. Which is in their favour. They have earned that right. They would never dispute him. He would never give them reason to.

 

Today, the main topic on the agenda is liquidity and Hux can’t help the sly smile on his face as he proposes his newest concept to extend profit margins and optimize their economic prospects in the Otomok system. Seeing how the Supreme Leader had decided he was going to move the weapons testing off planets (a dismal plan all around but too late to undo at this point), Hays Major and Minor did present Hux with a still somewhat interesting realm of possibilities. The natives of those planets had been ground down to complacency by years of hard work for scraps and mindless entertainment which catered to their base intellect. And while he knew Kylo Ren felt some misguided, sentimental dissatisfaction about this, Hux was smart enough to recognize the potential of the situation. The Haysians wanted to work and they were largely so desperate for it that they would do almost anything for the small wages standard on the planet. This would put the most capable people to work in the weapons factories which remained on site and secure a constant stream of willing workers for the in-space building stations. The most lucrative source of labour would come from a different place though, and this is the core of his key proposal of the day. The one he has been eager to get to all day.

 

Hux swipes forward leisurely on his datapad, bringing up the base schematics of his plan to appear gleaming green into the air above the conference table, several pairs of eyes studying the small writing intendedly. Hux keeps a close look on the round, waiting for the initial reactions as his men begin to fathom the genius of his scheme and he is rewarded with nods and smiles, knowing that no one in the room would present any protest, even if such a thing was allowed. His plan was cuttingly smart and so, so efficient it got him, truthfully, a little excited. At the heart of it is the new Haysian law which will apply a zero tolerance policy for big and small misdemeanours and violations of any kind. Any breach of the intricate system of rules and laws will be fined heavily, allowing the fit and able to put their money into the system in exchange for their freedom, while the vile, lazy, no-good scum of the planet will be graciously able to trade in their due fees for their labour in the factories. Subsequently, the underhand side deal with a powerful cartel of spice traders operating from one of the rim regions of the system, will provide the groundwork for the newly minted anti-drug laws to have a base, which will, after some time, sweep a good third of the adult populations into the prisons and labour camps.

 

Then, with approximately half the sentients put to work for them at practically no cost, their offspring would be as plentiful (due to his wise decision not to split camps by gender and also not providing any means of birth control) as it would be impossible to care for (because Hux plan made sure that there was only the utmost necessary time alloted for infant care). The loss of workers due to pregnancies would be remedied by a fresh crop of future Stormtroopers born each and every year. It was truly ingenious. And then he has not even mentioned his additional idea to set up toll stations at some key planets for the Otomok runs, which would bring in a steady cash flow, both by legitimate traders and those who would make generous donations for the First Order to look the other way. Hux smiles knowingly at his lieutenants, for by now he can tell by their faces that even the slowest among them had understood the beauty of his proposal and he knows at once that they all revere his wits. As they should.

 

 _Look at that, Ren_ , he thinks, a soaring pride puffing up his chest with righteousness. _This is how you run an empire. This is how you create a thriving economy that works in your favour instead of gifting the slackers, criminals and low-lives of the worlds with handouts and unearned gifts._

They are inferior, that is why they’re at the bottom of the barrel. And Hux is here, at the top of everything.

 

***

 

Finn spends the night splayed out on the floor of Rose’s room, periodically waking up in cold sweat, painfully worried about her, only to remember that she is finally save and awake. He still checks to hear if she’s breathing every time. And she does, every time.

 

Now that the grey-indogo morning of the first day that he has her back begins to paint her room in soft blue hues, he grins and takes a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he feels like he is at the start of something. Something different with her, with Rose. And she seems to like the idea as well. Which is amazing. And he had never pictured his romantic life like this, or at all really. Growing up, there was never room for musings of a possible civilian future, let alone was any kind of _human affiliation_ allowed or encouraged within the First Order structures. Having found someone like Rose now, who made him imagine in so many colourful ways how two people could spend time together, it seems like a strange but wonderful fever dream.

 

She is soundly asleep now, maybe dreaming too, which is funny enough, considering she must’ve done so much of that already in the past year. He would’ve thought she would suffer from insomnia for a while now, but she had drifted off eventually, way into the night of telling stories from her childhood, about her father working in the mines and her sister chasing her to one of the lakes nearby that was now no more than a puddle.

 

It’s another hour still until she rises, an hour that he spends mostly watching her. It feels so much better watching her sleep now that he knows she will wake up in the morning. As she does, Finn greets her with a big smile and jumps to help her get out of bed. She is still wobbly on her feet, a logical side effect from being immobile for so long, but she braves it with that same unwavering enthusiasm Finn has come to admire so ardently about her.

 

When he takes her downstairs, her parents have already set up the living room table with their finest cloth (even so, it’s still grey and dusty-looking, telling of a life that never allowed for many truly precious possessions) and the rest of their band of Rebels sits around, contentedly munching on home-made pudding and sipping generous pots of caff. For the first time the faint trace of the foul smell from outside is entirely untraceable.

Everybody greets them happily and Rose’s mother ushers her daughter daintily to her special spot at the head of the table, presenting her with all the finest food she had brought from the market in the wee hours of the morning, with all the money they had to spare. There’s a pang in Finn’s heart, a mix of affection and unflattering jealousy, because wherever his parents are, he has no idea if they would welcome him back this blissfully. If they still thought about him at all. He turns to find Rey at the table, to exchange a glance of sympathy, knowing that their share this de facto orphaned life but then he realises that she isn’t there at all. The Wookie and the droid are missing too.

 

“Where is Rey?” He asks across his newly acquired, steaming cup of caf. “And Chewbacca. And Beebee Eight?”

“They left early to collect another Force sensitive child,” Maz tells him, like it’s not that great of an information to share. Finn tenses immediately.

“How does she always _find_ these kids?” He asks and feels dread sneak up on him, slithering up his spine like a poisonous snake. He has half a heart to jump up and chase after them right that moment. “What if someone sees her? This is too dangerous, we should follow her.”

“She will be fine,” Maz says easily and waves her hand soothingly across her home-baked cinnamon bun. “Trust me, she is exactly where she needs to be right now.”

“I don’t like this,” Finn says still. Not too comforted by Maz’ confidence. “We shouldn’t hang around here too long. It’s dangerous. We should be leaving.”

 

“Not in her condition we shouldn’t,” Alsan cautions, tipping his head towards Rose.

“I’ll be fine, I can-,” Rose says and tries to stand up to show everyone how agile and back in action she is but a second later, she has to brace herself on the table with her knuckles turning white from the strain of holding herself up and she sits back down shakily, sheepishly. “A couple more days maybe.”

She looks down at her plate in shame and Finn’s heart breaks. That wasn’t what he meant to do, make her ashamed of not being fully healthy yet.

“No, you’re right,” Finn says to Alsan. “Before Rose gets back on her feet, we should lay low here. I just...I don’t like it when Rey runs off like that without discussing it first.”

“Well, seems like that’s a common occurance, huh? I’ll go ahead and check in with General Dameron, he shouldn’t be too surprised then.” Alsan shrugs and rises to go set up a secure connection from their shuttle.

“General Dameron,” Rose muses, shaking her head slightly. “So _that_ will never stop sounding weird.”

 

Finn smiles at her and asks himself once more what it must be like to not remember that last year that has passed. All the sacrifices they made and the battles they fought, as well as all those losses suffered, maybe he even envies her a bit for that. He only hopes Rey does her best to stay under the radar. If she were made, it would put her in extreme danger and also jeopardise their entire mission. And so far, that mission _has_ been a roaring success. The proof of it sits at the head of the table, working a fork into a pale yellow grapefruit with an easy smile and is the most beautiful sight in the world by miles.

 

***

 

Even with the city clear and sharp in the distance, it takes Rey and Chewbacca a long time to reach it. Halfway there, Rey regrets borrowing the Tico’s bruised and beaten landspeeder instead of taking the shuttle but somehow leaving in the early morning, the landspeeder had seemed like the most sensible option as it blended in better with the commuters heading into town to work. Now, almost an hour into their journey on the dirt trail, she curses those sensibilities to every black hole in the galaxy.

Beside her, Chewie laments their abismal progress and she has to agree. Should anyone recognize them, outrunning any low-grade First Order speederbike would be near impossible. Keeping their current tempo, Rey fastens the dark scarf tucked under her old goggles tighter once again, just to be sure. Although something tells her that even with her face completely covered by her hood and scarf, the Wookie by her side is probably what would give them away before anything else.

Tucked under the console sits BB8 and beeps something about boosting the engine’s excelerator.

“Now you mention that?” Rey says in disbelief. “Well, if you can get this thing to go any faster, that would be nice, BeeBee-Eight.”

The droid springs into motion and after some sparks and fried circuits, the speeder does pick up speed, if not much. But it’s something and BB8 is so pleased with himself, she can’t help but pat his round metal head.

 

By the time they reach the outskirts of the city, Rey figures it’s well into lunchtime and the city is bustling with life, even on the fringes. But it’s not a nice kind of busy. Everyone they pass on the streets walks with eyes downcast and hurriedly, as if they’re all collectively late to something. Rey passes the steering wheel to Chewie in order to focus on the child and not the passers-by with their empty eyes and frantic steps.

She knows they have to keep south by southwest as a general direction but she needs to tap into the Force to get a clearer sense of where the boy is exactly. She closes her eyes, drowning out the buzz of the town and the clattering engine to look for the child’s energy signature. It draws her in now that she is looking for it. He does not sense her right now, and she peeks into his head to see shapes coming into focus and hear muttered words, and then yelling and his attention being pulled from his surroundings. “Cado!” Someone yells and she knows at once that it’s his name. She knows where to go now.

 _I’m coming for you_ , she thinks. _Just hold on a moment longer._

 

***

 

Ben Solo thrashes through the endless corridors of his flag-ship, the _Ascendance_ , making officers and stormtroopers scramble out of his way in fear. Most days, he thinks all their cowering in front of him is pathetic and unjustified, given that he barely ever lashes out violently at anyone who did not have it coming but today, he is glad for it. He has somewhere to be. He’s angry at Hux but not more so than usual.

Really, he had been glad to have the day off from watching the General weasel about the bridge, snarling non-sensical commands at the officers and he was very prepared to leave Hux alone to his precious meetings (Ben had said his share about what he wanted done and expected Hux to put his orders into action) but then seeing Rey had rattled him.

 

She had felt so close, like he was almost in the room with her for real. That had to mean something. Maybe their base was nearby. Maybe he could get to her before the days end! Immediately after their connection in the morning broke down, he had sent for a briefing on the recent retcon developments and was infuriated to find that there were zero new developments; no way at all to tell if Rey was really nearby or any clue to where else she could be if his mind was only playing tricks on him. This could not stand. And so he damn well nearly runs to the conference room at the far end of the ship where Hux likes to hold his meetings and doesn’t bother to use the according button on the door when he arrives but swishes it open with the Force instead.

 

Inside, the pasty men in their black uniforms jump with a start, all eyes turned at Ben.

“General Hux,” he snaps in lieu of any further greeting and the prickly ginger turns his snake face to him from where he sits to his right, fighting noticeably to regain composure and plaster a grimace on his face that he must believe is a pleasant smile.

“Supreme Leader,” he says with pretend joy. “So good of you to join us.”

“Can you tell me why nobody has followed up on the Coruscant lead for the Jedi’s whereabouts?” Ben spits, not returning the laughable attempt at civility. “I believe I have copied everyone here in to this communique, yet there appear to be no results whatsoever yet.”

“Supreme Leader, with all due respect–,” Hux starts when the papers in front of him grab Ben’s attention.

 

By the time Hux notices his stare, Ben has already read enough to understand that none of what he can make out on the page is remotely what he wanted done at this meeting.

 

"What is this?” He asks just as Hux hurries to cover one document with the next, sprawling his long, pasty fingers across it like a spider’s legs to conceal the writing.

“Nothing you should concern yourself with, Supreme Leader,” Hux snivels. “Meaningless trade agreements.”

“I won’t ask you again,” Ben warns and takes a step closer to Hux. He feels the Force crackle around him, the dark side singing with anticipation, welcoming his anger, sensing that he is ready to pounce.

“Among other things, a proposition to supplement the work force with felons, Supreme Leader. The scum of the galaxy put to good use!” Hux waves his hands about, like it’s all of no consequence but Ben has seen enough.

“I see,” he begins, a growl lodged dangerously in the back of this throat. “You wish to introduce labour camps as punishment for minor misdemeanours. And all that for your personal profit.”

 

The whole scheme is clearly laid out in front of him. This is nothing like the system Ben has planned out, which would have people flock to work for the First Order because of good working conditions and fair compensation. Hux’s plan would just be repeating the mistakes of the Empire, turning the population of nearly every system against their rule. Safe for those few densely populated with humans (and well-to-do humans at that), what sits in these papers is nothing short of a plan to enslave people. This is not how you govern a galaxy and expect to do so in years to come.

 

“Supreme Leader–,” Hux says and before he can offer any more of his petty excuses or come up with some flimsy lie, Ben raises his arm, makes a fist and surges into the Force to close off the ginger’s throat.

“Who drew this up?” Ben asks sharply while the other man jerks under his iron grip, gasping for breath.

“D-Do-Donaghue,” comes a choking reply, much quicker than Ben had anticipated and immediately, the middle aged, pudgy and red-faced man at the far end of the table tries to scurry to his feet. But he isn’t fast enough.

 

With Hux still at his mercy, Ben brings up his free arm and does the same to Donaghue, exerting slightly more force to lift the man off his feet until he soars a couple of inches above the floor, grabbing at his neck, trying to pry off Ben’s invisible hold.

“He..he’s...lyi-,” the man says but Ben doesn’t care to listen.

 

Donoghue's legs kick the empty air and eyes swim with a plea for mercy but it’s no use. He will pay for what he did and Hux better observe closely. While Donaghue struggles, Ben deliberates giving the ginger the same treatment– with the same end –but thinks better of it. Slimy and pathetic as that man is, Ben needs him for now to keep the First Order in check. At least long enough until Ben has stacked its higher ranks with people he trusts at least a little more than these men. Donaghue, however, is completely expandable to him and will be far more use to him dead, as an example set for the fact that no one should presume to ignore Supreme Leader Ren’s wishes. And so Ben kills him, without pause or hesitation, simply squishes his windpipe together until his lungs collapse, fall in on themselves and Donaghue jerks in the air, once, twice and then his life snuffs out. Ben drops him then, so he lands with a weighty thud on the polished floor at the same time he releases Hux as well to clamour his senses back together. Donoghue deserved this, Ben tells himself before any other notion or emotion can creep up on him. Maybe not as much as Hux but at this table, that fate wouldn’t befall anyone unjustly.

 

With a glare across the room, Ben taxes every one of the twelve men remaining, all their faces painted in barely concealed terror. Good, let them be afraid of him. Let them wet themselves in fear. Let them see what their scheming and colluding will cost them.

 

“Undo this,” Ben orders coldly, glaring down at the papers in front of Hux. “And if I ever see anything like it on this desk again, _that_ ,” he nods vaguely to the body on the floor for the ultimate effect, “will be all of you.”

 

***

 

The scene has shifted gravely from the busy streets in the inner city of Sebris Gamma now that Rey has steered their landspeeder toward the southern edges of town where the buildings are shorter and in even worse state than closer to the cities core. The only drip of colour among the grey in grey is a tent-like structure in the near distance, its multiple cylinder shapes building up to a large dome tinted in different hues of blue. The closer they get to it, the weirder the people lining the street become. The clothes become more ragged, the faces more hollow and the eyes wilder. When Rey feels they’ve come close enough, she maneuvers the speeder into a smaller alley and helps BB8 down onto the pale, dusty ground.

“We’ll walk from here,” she announces and Chewie falls into step with her. “The boy is in that tent.”

 

To her great ease, no one they pass spares a glance at them, everybody preoccupied with themselves and many walking in the same direction, towards the wide entrance of the tent. As they get closer, Rey can hear the noise, a multitude of languages, words sung and shouted, roaring, hysterical laughter and children screaming and through the vast portal, she can see a plethora of lights shining from inside. All this creates an intriguing pull beckoning her closer. She wants to know what secrets are behind those blue curtains and she quickens her steps with BB rolling faster beside her to keep up, beeping in feeble protest at the pace. Steadfast, Rey trudges on.

There’s something dark about that place, she knows as much, recognizing the pull in her chest from that cave back on Ach-To a million years ago. There is something for her in this darkness, there always is, but she takes a deep breath and searches beyond that, looking for Cado among what else lingers where they cross from the colourless day into another, eccentric world.

 

Inside the tent there is a big commotion. In the middle of the floor, a large circle dominates the space and all around it are house-high, steep bleachers with creatures of many different species on them. Some are sitting, others are walking about, others stand around in corners and at food stands at the sides. There does not seem to be one single performance or showing in action, rather, it’s a dozen little things going on at the same time in the arena: there are three large Fambaars jumping through giant hoops, each time one thumps back onto the ground, the bleachers shake a little. Above their heads fly two lithe Chiss females from thin bars on long ropes, one being caught mid-flight by the foot by a winged creature which Rey thinks is a young Ruping before he tosses her back into the air until she lands gracefully on a pedestal high up in the tent’s ceiling. The Ruping has two of its four eyes focused on the one flyer, the other two on the other, supposedly ready to catch and release them again at any moment. On the ground, a little ways away from the Fambaars, is a human male spewing fire from his mouth and Rey has a little trouble staying on task in the face of all that spectacle.

She can sense that beyond all this wonder is pain, she can see it in the twitchy movements of the people on display in the middle, sees the electrical whips leave marks on the bodies of the beasts, can taste the smell of sick and alcohol in the air but something there is still beautiful, extravagant and wild in its bright off-beat colours and flickering lights. She has never seen anything quite like this before in her life.

 

“This is a circus,” she mutters, the recollection of an old book she had picked up at Niima outpost some years ago coming back to her. Chewbacca howls in agreement, although he isn’t nearly as transfixed by it all. Instead, he growls after a moment and Rey follows his eyes to another corner of the arena. Instinctively, Rey grabs a hold of his furry arm when she sees what he sees. There is a small huddle of Wookie pups in ridiculous costumes running through a tigh-high maze while being sprayed with water guns by the audience nearby.

“Easy,” she says. “There’s nothing we can do now. I’m sorry.”

 

Chewbacca begrudgingly accepts this and follows her as she continues her way through the tent, BB8 rolling up ahead and below a row of bleachers where the crowd is thinner and they can cross the vast space quicker. Cado is close now, Rey can feel it.

Once they reach the far side of the tent, a small slit opens in the fabric as an oddly shaped cart is rolled out, holding some kind of organic blob that could be anything from food to a sentient being. Rey nods to her companions to sneak inside before it falls shut again and they hurry to, looking over their shoulders to check if anybody is watching. But neither her nor Chewbacca notice the shifty creature following them at a safe distance, too preoccupied with the task at hand.

 

Once out of the big arena and in the dark and narrow backside of the round, the stink of spirits and waste is even stronger and Rey has to breathe through her mouth to continue on. Nobody takes any notice of them although she understands that they are now in the private, backstage section of the tent. Pressing on, they pass rows and rows of cages, some empty, filled with feces as big as human heads, some holding creatures mostly way too big for such close captivity and artists in various states of dress and sobriety stumble about, getting ready for their next performance. And everywhere, there are children running around. They’re carrying bottles and trays and buckets full of dirt, pulling heavy bags and pushing carts and barrels. Rey tries to study every face but so far, she has not found Cado yet. She squeezes her eyes shut while walking and lets herself be guided by the boy’s energy, finding it flurrying purple up ahead.  

 

But now he has sensed her, she realises when she feels his alertness switching to alarm and his light skitters away. He is running. Rey picks up the chase. Without really seeing anything, she rounds the corner into what must be a storage section; a maze of ridiculously high shelves stacked with boxes of varying sizes which she navigates simply by following the trace the boys’ Force signature leaves, like a violet roadmap that leads to his hiding place at the very back of the space, wedged between the tent wall and a wooden box. Rey approaches slowly, feeling his heartbeat thrum like a hummingbird’s. The poor kid is terrified, so she stays and keeps a bit of distance, signaling Chewie and BB8 to stay even further behind.

She must pace herself. She feels the familiar rush of having scavenged something rare and valuable, of having found something she was searching for, but Cado was a child and not an old bust still good part of a Star Destroyer power core. He was scared and alone and if he was anything like her growing up, he would be wary of strangers, especially if they had chased him through a dark tent and had literally backed him into a corner. So Rey goes down to a crouch and softens her own energy, willing a serene calm to wash through her and flow from her mind to his, laying it over his anxiousness and fear like a warm, comforting blanket.

 

“Cado? You can come out. I won’t hurt you, I promise,” she starts, her voice muffled by the scarf around her face. “We’re here to take you away from this place.”

For a while, nothing happens but then finally, there is a tiny and shaky, high-pitched voice coming from behind the box. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m Rey. I’m like you, I saw you in a dream, that’s how I know,” she tells him softly, trying hard to sound as unthreatening as she is. “Won’t you come into the light so I can see you?”

 

“What do you mean?” He asks and a mess of light brown hair comes into view as he slowly peeks his head out from behind the wood. “You saw me in a dream?”

“I did,” she says evenly. “And I think you saw me too.”

To make her point, Rey, pushes her hood down, them the goggles up and the scarf falls down onto her shoulders, revealing her face to the boy who blinks at her in faint recognition.

“Close your eyes, Cado. Reach out,” she tells him quietly. “You know me. Can you remember?” The child obliges after a moment of hesitation and Rey can practically see him grasp into the darkness. “Reach out with your feelings. What you feel around you is the Force, Cado. Do you know the Force?”

“Mmh mmh, from the stories” he mutters and his face scrunches together around his closed eyes. “Is that what that is?”

“Yeah,” Rey says, her voice catching on a soft chuckle.

“Oh. Good,” Cado says and opens his eyes again. “I always thought something was wrong in my belly.”

“There isn’t,” Rey smiles warmly and sinks to her knees to be level with him, extending her hand for him, the gesture familiar in ways that pull heavily at her heart, but she pushes that away for the moment. “Where I come from, I train other children like you, who are strong with the Force and I want you to join me. Do you want to come with us and become a Jedi?”

He looks at her skeptical but intrigued, his eyes going wide when she says ‘Jedi’ and doesn’t move away when she leans forward a little.

“But you have to know, if you come with me, you can never come back here,” she tells him and now his eyes go even wider, almost impossibly so. “You have to leave everything else behind.”

“You bring me away from here?” He asks and the awe and hope in his voice is almost enough to make her cry. How she wishes someone would have come for her when she’d been his age. Rey nods encouragingly and then, like a shot, Cado’s little hand grabs on to hers. “Can we go right now?”

 

***

 

Finn has stupidly agreed to do the dishes after their early dinner and now has shriveled fingertips, the brackish water coming from the tab hardly seeming trustworthy for getting _anything_ clean but it’s too late to turn back now, so he continues on his task. Mrs. Tico enters the kitchen so quietly, he nearly jumps when the plates click together on the drainer where she plucks them from to dry them with an old rag one by one.

“So, you’re my Rose’s boyfriend?” Mrs. Tico says unprompted and Finn nearly chokes on his tongue.

“I--uh, um,” he stutters pathetically. “Who told you that?”

Finn snaps his head around to look into the living room and catches Maz’ mischievous grin as she plays sabbac with Alsan and Rose, inwardly cursing her to the high heavens. Hell, how is he supposed to know if he is Rose’s boyfriend? He barely even kissed her more than maybe five and a half times and either way, he has no idea how that whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing works in the first place. Not that he is opposed to the idea but he has just begun to wrap his mind around the fact that something could happen with them but he has no idea what and how to go about it. If anything, he doesn’t know nearly enough to be quizzed by her mother of all people.

“You’re a good man, Finn,” says Mrs. Tico though, and saves him the humiliation of stuttering his way through some kind of answer and instead puts the dish she was drying away to pinch both of his cheeks with her chubby fingers. “I am very happy!”

 

Then, as quickly as she had made that grab for his face, she pulls back again, her features splitting into a grin like she has just thought of something wonderful. She tells him to wait for her and disappears through the second door leading into the hallway. As Finn listens to the stairs above his head crack with the weight of Rose’s mom as she walks up briskly to the second floor, he risks another quick glance over his shoulder into the living room, trying to see if Rose has heard but she seems very preoccupied with the cards in her hand. With his ears on fire, he tries to keep on scrubbing one particularly stubborn tea rim from a cup, when Mrs. Tico comes back, his attention catching on the the small square wooden box in her hand.

Finn forgets how breathing works when the older lady pushes in between him and the terribly open door to the living room and holds the thing in her hand out for him to see, lifting the lid with one swift move and presenting, of course, a delicate, simple wedding band.

 

“This was my mother’s,” Mrs. Tico whispers conspiritively. “It was once meant for Paige because she’s the oldest but…” Her voice trails off while her face falls to grief for a second but she quickly regains her composure. When she puts her resolute grin back on her face, she looks at once so hopeful, it breaks Finn’s heart a little. “You should ask her at sunset. Rose always loved sunsets. But I’m sure you already know that.”

 

Then she snaps the box back close and shoves it into Finn’s still dripping wet hands while he just stands there, stick still and terrified. This is all kinds of wrong but he can’t as well give the ring back to her and explain that he can’t possibly...well, what exactly he ‘ _can’t possibly’_ he does not know, he knows nothing at all, especially not what to do with this family heirloom sitting in his palm so hot as if it was on fire.

“Yes. Um,” he stutters, somehow managing a smile as he clumsily pockets the box and near trips past her and into the doorway to the living room.  “Thank you, Mrs. Tico. I’ll… uh… I’ll go check on Rose.”

 

“...tantrums, I tell you! He would lay flat on his belly and pound on the ground until he passed out,” Alsan is bellowing into the whirl of thoughts in Finn’s head. Lando Calrissian’s son sits at the table mock-pounding his fist on the wood and laughs. “Never liked not getting what he wanted, that one.”

“Ah, but how the sun came out when that boy smiled,” Maz says pensively.

“Well, that is very true,” Alsan agrees with a wistful nod. “Broke my heart years later.”

“Who are you talking about?” Finn asks, more for something to say than to learn.

“Kylo Ren,” Rose says evenly and he is momentarily distracted from the mess in his brain.

“Kylo Ren?” He repeats dimly and looks at Alsan, wondering if he really said what Finn thinks he has heard–that Kylo Ren had broken his heart because of his sunny smile?!

Alsan shrugs. “He was Ben when I knew him. And there was something about him, can’t fault a kid for dreaming.”

“Well, you sure dodged a bullet there, right, man?” Finn says somewhat awkwardly, patting the other man on the shoulder and Rose giggles.

“Finn?” She says and beckons him closer with a tip of her head. As he goes to her, Maz and Alsan go back to bickering about some past sabbac move and so when Rose speaks next, it’s only to him.

“I just wanted you to know you don’t have to marry me right away,” she grins and Finn displaces his entire face for a second.

 

***

 

Rey’s head snaps around when they hear something rustling from the shelves behind her and BB8 beeps obediently as he immediately rolls off to investigate, following the echo of the sound. He switches into a faster gear, quick so he doesn’t miss whatever made it and turns a corner where he detects movement in one of the rows. A figure is leaning against the shelf, covered with a black sheet. He beeps alertedly and rolls forward, less fast than he could but it’s totally not because he is afraid, _absolutely not,_ he is just being cautious.

Once close enough for his interface arm to reach the cloth, he doesn’t waste enough time to worry and instead pulls at the fabric and drops it down to the ground. Underneath is a decommissioned droid, grey and dented and in really bad shape, much like everything technical the astromech has encountered on this planet so far. To make really sure there is no threat though, he rolls closer yet and bumps his head against the other droid, metal clinking against metal, but the robot opposite him remains dead, unmoving steel.

“What is it, Beebee?” Rey calls from behind and he whistles back, already making his retreat.

_Nothing, just a rusty old communication droid._

“We should still go,” Rey says once he is back at her side and he follows her when she gets back on her feet, the little boy holding onto her hand, even as he lifts up the tent wall, showing them the fastest way out.

Once outside, the little boy pats BB8’s head with his free hand and he bleeps and blops in reply. He loves making new friends. You can never have enough of those!

 

***

 

A few moments later, in a smelly old gorge of storage shelves in a dingy circus tent on Hays Minor, KY-13 takes himself out of stand-by mode, mildly annoyed that he has to bend down to recollect his fine robe from the ground. Stupid BB unit. Now it’s all dirty and stained. As fast as his rusty joints allow, KY-13 produces his comm link from the secret pocket in the cloth and punches in his code swiftly. He wonders just how big the reward for this information will be as the shaky connection to his First Order contact is established. Maybe enough to finally get him off this damned, forsaken backwater planet or at least get his loose circuits fixed.

 

For once, he envies the fleshers, those cruel humans. For their screechy unpleasant voices no less, for the simple reason that they are able to convey emotions far better than his kind. Were he a human, his words would reverberate with _triumph_. Alas, he contents himself with just the basking in it inwardly and knows he is the luckiest piece of old trash in the entire galaxy for making this most convenient discovery.

 

“The Jedi is here,” he says, his mechanic tone severely even. “On Hays Minor in the city of Sebris Gamma.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who commented so far, you are my breath and blood! I'll never tire of saying this: your support is what keeps me writing...today four new comments came in, even if I updated weeks ago. Let me tell you, that was exactly the push I needed to finish this chapter.
> 
> Your words and engagement with fics is so important! Never underestimate the weight of your words and how far your encouragement goes. Thank you so much!


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you for your patience, I kinda fell into a little VirtueMoir hole and it consumed me for a little while there. I also wasn't in the right headspace for this to be honest but now I'm happy that it's out :) Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine, please bare with me! 
> 
> This one is shorter than the last couple of chapters but it felt like the right place to stop.  
> I hope you like it and thank you so much for your continued feedback! Every comment lights up my existence, I'm not even kidding!  
> Thank you!

CHAPTER FIVE 

 

It’s hours yet before Rey, BB8, Chewbacca and little Cado arrive back at the small Tico residence. Mostly to happy faces but some palpable scorn from Finn who reiterates again how he is not pleased with Rey taking off on her own without telling anybody.

“I did tell Maz,” she argues under her breath after tucking a dead-tired Cado into her bed.

“You didn’t tell _me_ ,” he says with a wariness that Rey has seen on him some times before on base. It hurts but there is not much she can do about it now.

 

Somewhere in the last year a divide had started cracking open between them and Rey isn’t too keen on investigating it because she would rather not know about it at all, let alone why it happened, which she thinks has a lot to do with the pull in her lower back, the rumble in the Force she feels then. He’s going to show up any second now and Rey needs to get away and be alone somewhere so they won’t figure out how she has her mortal enemy lodged in her head.

 

So she excuses herself to get some air on the roof and leaves Finn to grumble by himself. She doesn’t have time to somehow content herself with that though as the roar in her ears gets louder and she half bursts through the door upstairs, face hit with cold, smelly evening air, as Ben appears, eying her hungrily. Only they’re not alone after all. Rose stands at the railing and looks across the stinted houses of the village at the greying, desolate skyline in the distance.

 

“Rose,” Rey says in surprise and curses herself when she sees Ben’s eyebrows flicker up at this nugget of information. She shoots him a glare, half warning, half plea.

 _Leave me alone_ , she thinks at him and going by the smirk on his face, she thinks he just might have heard it.

Rose turns around and her face splits in a genuine smile. Rey realises this is the first time they’ve been alone together with both of them conscious.

“So you’ve done some sight-seeing in the big city today, huh?” Rose asks as Rey comes over to join her in her look-out.

“Not many sights to speak of,” Rey mutters.

“I know,” Rose agrees. “I hardly remember but my parents say the city was beautiful, _before_ , you know.”

“It’s terrible what the First Order has done,” Rey says, with another glare aimed at Ben, careful not to give her location away and very glad that he can only hear her and not Rose.

“Justice for Otomok,” Rose says, her eyes cast into the distance. “That’s all we ever wanted. Why we joined the Resistance. Me and my sister.”

“I’m sorry,” Rey says at the mention of Rose’s loss.

 

The moments Rey has spent in the other woman’s mind had reverberated in every crease and nook with the grief about losing her sister. In many ways it felt like Rey’s own heartbreak of losing her family but in others, it was way worse because Rose had known her sister, had gone little more than two days without her before she died with not so much as a body to bury and properly say goodbye to.

“It’s alright,” Rose says and sounds unbearably tired. “She’s in a better place. I hope.”

“Me too,” says Rey and then there is a moment of amicable silence before Rose turns around to her.

“I didn’t really have a chance to thank you yet,” Rose says. “I don’t know how but I know you were there to help me wake up. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” Rey says.

“But you don’t even know me, I’m just a random mechanic and you’re... _you’re_ …,” the rest of Rose’s sentence turns into insinuation and Rey isn’t really sure what exactly Rose sees in her. Some kind of hero? That idea makes her head swim with guilt, feeling Ben’s presence like a blanket wrapped around her, suffocating and immediate. If they only knew…

 

“You’re important to Finn,” Rey says resolutely and ignores how Ben shifts from where he is standing a few paces away to listen in on her. “Which means you’re important to me.”

Rose beams, even if Rey thinks there is something the other rebel isn’t telling her but she doesn’t get to find out because next thing she knows, Rose leaves her to her own devices, because she has to help her mother prepare dinner.

 

“Go away,” Rey says as soon as she is alone and doesn’t look at Ben who is moving closer to her, ever shrouded in dark curiosity.

“So she lived, your friend?” He asks. “Rose?”

“None of your business,” Rey says dismissively and turns her head to study the peeling paint on the railing cold under her hands, picking at the edges with her fingernails.

“I know where you are,” Ben says unprompted and her heart skips a beat. “I’m coming for you.”

“We’ll be gone before you set a foot on this planet,” Rey snaps, knowing somehow that he isn’t lying and all the more mortified for it.

“With a girl who’s been in a coma for a year? Unlikely,” he almost smiles. “Remember that I’m close. I know you feel it too.”

 

And he’s right, she can feel his signature in the Force like a beacon and has to fight the panic collecting like a pool of acid in the pit of her stomach. _They have to get out of there_.

 

Ben, who is content studying her response for a while, takes yet another step closer, his nearness both distracting and infuriating. She knows she can touch him, she can bring him to her if she just reaches out and it breaks her nearly in half.

“I’m willing to make you a deal,” he offers with an arrogant generosity that makes her blood boil. “You come to me tomorrow, willingly. And I’ll let your friends go. I will not look for them, I won’t send anybody after them. You have my word that they will return to your precious Resistance unharmed. But you’re coming with me. And you’ll stay. With me.”

 

His voice is steady in his demands but she can feel the longing and sorrow radiate from him as if they were mists of colour dressing him in violent hues.

“I will never give you what you want,” Rey says, finally locking her glare on his and her mouth tastes like cardboard. Ben’s face turns to stone.

“Either you come to me tomorrow at dawn, or I’ll come for you and your friends and they’ll never see the light of day again,” he tells her resolutely with icy promise. “Your choice.”

And then he leaves her alone with that unfortunate ultimatum.

 

***

 

On the resistance base, Poe Dameron has his face buried in his hands, just for the duration of an exasperated sigh. It’s all he has time for with the entire council at each other’s throats. Poe stands in the middle of a heated debate between what it seems are incarnations of himself a year ago and himself now: the one faction demanding action and plans and blood and the other arguing for level heads and caution.

Commander D’Acy does her best to keep the discussion from turning into a screaming match and in a far off corner, Lando sits and listens with a face set in a permanent expression of soft annoyance, like he has been there a million times before and Poe feels like he has been too, too many times for a man his age.

 

“Fact is, we need to strike before they’ve gotten the entire galaxy under their thumb,” one officer says, her voice cutting and shrill from frustration.

“First we need to get the Hapan system on board,” another says, literally pointing a finger “they have kept to themselves long enough. This is their fight too.”

Poe can see quite a few heads turn to the two Hapans in the room, their faces beautiful and serene, even in their distress at being thusly called and singled out.

“We’re working on it,” one of them says, his eyes glistening in a way that makes Poe bite his lip and look away. Faced with the Hapan couple, Poe has never been surer of the fact that he appreciates both sexes equally.

 

 _Focus_ , he tells himself and snaps back into sharpness soon enough to hear the Hapan woman say: “It would be easier if the communication channels weren’t fourth rate, unsafe and breaking down every five minutes.”

This sets off the comm-technicians in the room and before Poe knows it, everyone is flinging accusations of inaction and incompetence at everyone and he wants to scream right along with them, scream his heart out. He needs Leia. None of this is working without her. Without her presence and poise and the legend of her serving as a beacon of hope and unity, they’re nothing more than a ragtag band of hot-headed, desperate children, running into walls on anger and stubbornness alone.

 

“ENOUGH!” He screams, finally, and to his utmost surprise, the room actually falls silent. With all eyes suddenly on him, it takes a feverish second for him to realize that he has no idea what to say and then to say something anyway.

 

“I know you’re frustrated and it feels like we are sitting on our hands while the enemy is steadily closing in. But we have to trust our capabilities here, we have to trust the evidence, trust our experts and their process. It doesn’t do anybody any good to run blindly into the line of fire and hope to get out on the other side in one piece. Trust me, I’ve been there,” he says and he thinks he can hear some snickers reverberate from the dingy, metal walls. On instinct, his eyes find Connix in a huddle of officers nearby and she holds his gaze firmly, and nods. “Before we can strategize and come up with a worthy plan, we need to boost our numbers and we need actable intel.”

“We need the _Jedi_ ,” someone from the back yells and murmurs spark instantly. Poe silences them with his hand in the air.

“Yes, that too,” he says. “And as soon as Rey gets back, she’ll be able to tell us when they will be ready to join the fight for our cause.”

“Well, when is she coming back then?” The same voice hackles and Poe can’t make out where it comes from, however hard he tries.

“Soon,” he says.

 _I hope_ , he thinks.

 

***

 

“You can’t be serious,” Finn hisses in the darkness of the hallway, blocking the front door with his back. It’s just minutes to dawn and Rey doesn’t have _time_ for this. How did he know to keep watch on her anyway?

“It’s the only choice,” she insists and tries to push past him.

“No, it isn’t!” Finn says and his large hands close around her shoulders. He is not using great force but he’s keeping her in place all the same. His face close enough to feel his breath on her cheek in urgent pants. “We’ll fight him together, we did it before.”

“And how well did that go?” Rey challenges, dealing him the low blow he had coming. “We can’t beat him, not without running the risk of _losing_. If I go with him, we. Don’t. Lose.”

“Yes, we do,” Finn says gravely. “We lose _you_.”

“No, you won’t.” Rey assures him. “He won’t kill me.”

“There’s a record bounty on your head, of course he will kill you if you give him the chance,” Finn argues and it’s astounding that for as well as he knows her, he really has no idea.

 

With a pang, she notices that this is her fault. Because she hasn’t confided in him. And that rift that had started growing deeper and deeper between them was also glaringly _her_ fault. But maybe it isn’t too late to remedy that, she thinks.

“Trust me, he really won’t. He-,” and she has to pause there to gather the courage to put words to a truth that Finn won’t like to hear for a myriad of reasons Rey doesn’t want to really know. “He wants me by his side. He wants to rule the galaxy with me.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Finn asks but leaves the fact itself unchallenged. So he does have a base grip on that particular side of the dynamic at play.

 

“Because I do. I know him.” Another stealthy breath as dawn creeps on closer them by the second. “I know him as well as I know myself. Finn, something happened to me, to me and him. There’s a bond between us,” she says, and if to illustrate, puts her hand on his chest, where his heart is and hopes she won’t lose him on the span of the next sentence. “I can’t describe or understand it but for better or worse, I’m a part of him and he of me. He’s with me no matter where we are, across the universe. He is...in here.” She retrieves the hand from his chest to tap her head with it. “Always.”

Finn’s face is a study of confusion and he drops his hands from her shoulder, taking a step back. “Since when?”

“Starkiller Base, I think,” she confesses and she can’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. “The first time we noticed was on Ach-To.”

“That was a year ago!” Finn nearly screams and quickly reigns his voice in, thankfully the house stays silent, unspeakably early in the morning as it is. But to Rey, space and time dissolves into the horror of seeing her best friend look at her like she’s a perfect stranger. “This has been going on for a year and you haven’t told anyone? You haven’t told _me_?”

“Because I had it under control,” Rey mutters sheepishly, casting her eyes to one of the pictures hung on the wall. Little Rose with a Fathier plush doll, smiling from ear to ear. What she wouldn’t give to switch places with that little girl right now.

“Why, not anymore, you don’t!” Finn says and his urgency has her head snap back to him. “I can’t let you do this.”

 

“You have to. I’ll be fine,” she promises, trying to reason with him, tugging at the Force to even out his turmoil but he’s beyond her interference. “He _won’t_ hurt me. He…,” and once again in the dark she stops, resorting to the last big secret, the one her friend will be able to forgive least. “Finn, I think he loves me.”

“That’s insane,” he snaps before she even finishes saying ‘me’.

She says nothing, just looks at him. Because he has to _know_. He has to know she has no reason to lie about this.

“Rey, that’s _insane_ ,” he repeats and retreats another step away from her, like she has grown a second head.

“Listen, maybe I can turn him this time,” Rey tries again. “I told you, he almost came with me a year ago. If I can get to him, I can make him see! I _need_ to do this, I need to go with him. Ben’s not lost, I know it.”

“Ben?” Who would have known that this was the last straw to break the bantha’s back.

 

Finn somehow manages to back away from the door and her at the same time even if she is technically in his way. But there is a distance between them that feels as wide as the ocean on Ach-To.

 

“You,” he says once she is the one with the door at her back. “You have _feelings_ for him.”

Rey can’t bring herself to disagree with him. No more lying. Whatever good it will do them.

Finn stares at her and looks almost disgusted at her lack of denial. “You actually do. I can’t believe this. He’s a _monster_.”

“But he’s not,” she pleads and realizes for the first time that she believes what she says. “Go in there and ask Alsan, they grew up together, he’ll tell you,” tries Rey.

“He murdered his own father! He nearly killed me, he would’ve killed Luke if he’d had the chance,” Finn says, his voice rising to a crescendo and Rey looks around nervously as the floorboards crack above their heads. “How can you defend him?”

 

“He’s just...he’s in pain and he’s conflicted and has been his whole life. I can’t...I’m not discussing this further,” she says, putting her foot down. She doesn’t have time, not nearly enough to try and make him understand at least. “I made up my mind. I will go with him and you will wait here until Rose is strong enough to take her back to the Resistance.”

Her hand is on the door handle when he speaks again, giving her pause.

“What about your younglings? The new Jedi, what about them? If you can leave us behind so easily, will you do the same to them?” There is so much pain and disappointment in his eyes and words, Rey feels near to cracking open. “Huh?”

“I’ll come back, I’ll find a way,” she promises and wants to hug him but everything about him screams _Don’t Touch Me_.

“I don’t agree with this,” he says and crosses his arms.

“It’s my decision, Finn. And you have to accept that,” she states, her heart breaking.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he says, his jaw square and set tightly. “Go, then.” He makes no more move to stop her. “Go.”

So she does.

 

***

 

Deslin closes her eyes at the sunshine, drinking in the last fleeting rays while sitting outside the base on a set of tree stumps with Corra and Dell in avid discussion beside her.

“I don’t like this,” Corra says. “This stupid blaster training. I want to go back to building my lightsaber.”

“Kids, get in here, it’s getting dark!” It’s Kaydel Ko Connix who’s yelling at them from the hanger bay and the three of them simultaneously elect to ignore her.

“I can help you,” Dell offers.

“But Mistress Rey said not to continue to work on it without her!” Corra says but there’s a definite tinge of intrigue to her voice.

“It’s not that hard,” Dell shrugs. “I’ll show you.”

“I really want to finish it,” Corra murmurs. “Can I see yours again?”

Now Kaydel is yelling from behind them: “Do I _have_ to count to three?”

 

Groaning, the three of them rise from their gathering, their Force signatures mingling to shared displeasure of having to get back into the stuffy base. Dell walks backward to hide what he is doing from Kaydel. He produces the lightsaber he isn’t even supposed to have on him outside of training to show it off to them. Corra reaches out to touch it but Dell snags it away as the sun disappears behind a cloud on its way down.

“No touching!” Dell says and tucks the saber away again, a soft chill sending a shiver down Deslin’s spine. “Remember what Rey said: This is your life…”

“Try not to lose it,” Corra and Deslin finish, before being ushered inside by an eye-rolling Kaydel.

 

***

 

The sun has emerged across the plain when Rey has reached the top of the mountain that shields Rose’s village. The valley unfolding before her in the light is a lot greener than she remembers from the night they arrived but a grey, dusty tint clings to everything and the ghastly smell of ash and sulfur is ever-present. She can see the black marks of engine exhaust down at the bottom where she had landed their shuttle days ago.

 

Nearby those faint traces stands a black cloaked figure with an entourage of six Stormtroopers, dwarfed by the Epsilon shuttle sitting behind them. Rey’s breath catches unbidden at the sight of him and she can’t be sure because he is still so far away, but she could swear his head turns to her, her body to him surely just a silhouette against the sun rising at her back. She feels the Force sing with his anticipation all the way down the mountain. He makes no move to intercept her. He’s letting her come to him, like a pig to the slaughter, and maybe that’s the worst of it all.

 

Finally, after walking in a straight line toward him for minutes, his form only growing more broad and imposing with every step, Rey stops at a safe distance and doesn’t quite know whether or not to look at him. His proximity is deafening, the Force roaring like it always does when they are physically close. She takes a breath to steady herself and plans to say something clever but he beats her to it.

 

“Your lightsaber, Rey.” He bellows across the somewhat long distance, his hand outstretched to her. At least this time, he doesn’t make a claim on it, even if it’s made of the same Kyber crystal that used to sit in Luke’s old saber.

Rey produces the two parts from the bag slung across her shoulder and has a stupid idea she immediately puts into action because she’s impulsive and apparently, an idiot.

 

With a splash of energy, her lightsaber, quickly assembled into its staff-form, bursts to life in her hand and before she can even get into a fighting stance, the first Stormtrooper has launched a blazer bolt at her. She deflects it with her blade and it ricochets to hit another trooper in the thigh. He goes down with a startled cry and Rey holds her weapon tighter.

“I knew you were gonna do this,” Ben says and across the plain, his exhilaration hits her like a ton of bricks. He is loving this.

“Bite me,” she says and the eyebrow-raise this gets out of him is almost obscene and she doesn’t dignify it with a response other than adjusting her feet, enough that he knows it’s on.

 

They charge at each other at the same time, crossing the distance with lightsabers raised and meeting with a clash over their heads, sparks flying as their eyes meet for a long moment. It takes a while to get re-accustomed to the whir of electricity and energy surging around them like the Force is extra alive and alert whenever they meet in the flesh.

 

This surge sends them spinning around each other, attack to parry and then vice versa. She launches herself at him more often than him and she is quicker to dodge the blows he does deal but in turn, he is strong and he doesn’t pull his strokes. Brute force crushes down against her blade she can only divert it by pulling at the Force for resistance. They are dancing across the grey grass as the pale blue sky gets lighter and soft fog rises around their ankles, swirling up and around their legs as they move. For a brief moment Rey thinks she knows how Rose feels. Like she has been sleeping for a year and has just woken up again.

 

***

 

It’s a thrill to be covering the grass beneath their feet with singeing holes where their sabers inadvertently hit the ground on this or that parry, the fog splitting around the laser beams and Ben soars. There’s a glint in Rey’s eye whenever their gazes lock and it sends him flying, grabbing hold of the Force and for the first time in years he has some semblance of fun. He almost smiles when she grumbles after an especially daring move she only dodges by a threat, like he knew she would. But somewhere between a twirl and a piece of the fabric she wears draped around her body falling away where he’s cut it off at the height of her knee, something about her energy changes.

 

Somehow, what has felt like their own odd way of greeting each other turns suddenly serious in a sharp twist. It’s evident in the snarl curling her mouth and a flicker of red in her eyes as she undoes whatever contraption she has built to keep the two parts of her staff together and is charging at him with two blades, slashing almost blindly, with a lack of definition and form that reminds him a lot of his early days at the Temple. Most disconcerting is her signature in the Force as it darkens from the brightness he is used to to something darker, something dangerous. She is slipping, he realises, and that’s a lot scarier than it ought to be.

 

She is moving so fast, he has a hard time keeping up and if she had been before, now she isn’t pulling punches. Now, she is serious. Seriously trying to kill him.

 

It takes all he has not to let this get to him, to convince himself that it’ll pass, that she won’t desert him like everyone else has. That she believes that on some level they are meant to be together and that she’ll stop, eventually. But she doesn’t, she just keeps coming at him, slashing and jumping, shoving him with hands and the Force alike. He has a hard time gathering his bearings and is out of breath when a wide stride back puts them far enough apart to pause. She is panting, breathing hard through her nose, sitting over a mouth curled in anger, teeth barred and clenching. Ben tries to hold her eyes in place with his and reach her through the Force. There’s a flicker of something he can’t put a name to and it’s enough for him to thumb his lightsaber out and throw it away.

 

Behind him, he feels the Troopers he brought –more decoration than anything else– draw in a collective breath and their minds rattle loudly about what has just happened. Ben shrugs slightly, his palms facing upward. If this is what she wants, whatever, she can have it. If there is no place for him in her heart, she might as well get it over with. Anything to not face an eternity all alone. Suddenly he is so tired. Maybe it’s really time to go, to let her finish it. He can’t stand the loneliness anymore. Perhaps that was the reason he met her all along. No signs or destinies. Maybe she was just supposed to end his suffering.

“Do it then,” he tells her and he finds that he means it. “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

Rey is breathing hard and for a moment he thinks she might still do it. But then she growls with a frustration that is carnal and raw and she too, extinguishes her sabers.

 

She can’t do it. He exhales a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and puts his wits back together, careful not to read into it, not more than the fact that she is ultimately a good person who probably had trouble killing anybody in cold blood now that she had grown somewhat. It wasn’t personal. Probably. But still. Here they are, both still breathing, both still connected by the current of the Force flaring in the space between them. It’s progress.

 

“Now that that’s done,” Ben says after a moment, once he’s certain that she’s really not changing her mind. “Shall we?”

Rey stands unmoving, the grey mist around her legs fading as the fog on the plain clears slowly, revealing the scarred, charred earth like a mural underneath their feet. She is staring at him but she’s not making any move. When he prods into her mind, he is met with a wall of stubborn defiance. She’s not going anywhere. But she’s there. She came and just now, she decided not to kill him. That has to mean something.

 

“Fine,” he sighs and crosses the distance between them with a few long strides, her eyes following until he stands close enough to touch her. She is glaring at him, undeterred and he almost bites his tongue, feeling his cheeks pink in a completely undignified way. “Have it your way.”

 

With this, he lifts his hand to the level of her head, and just as he has done a lifetime ago in a forest on Takodana, he finds the switch to her conscious mind and flicks it out. But different than that day in the woods, he meets no resistance. Her mind almost welcomes the darkness, almost welcomes _him_ as her limbs go numb and his arms are there to catch her and scoop her up before her knees touch the ground. So in the end, she goes down comparatively easy and that’s probably all he can ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so...how happy are you that they finally met again in person? ;)
> 
> PS: The Hapans featured in this chapter are of course a nod to diasterism's wonderful story "landscape with a blur of conquerors" which is wonderful and everybody should read!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and if you choose to stick around, thank you for that as well!
> 
> Kudos and comments are life!! <3


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